Wayfarers
by summerandblue
Summary: Three years after BOFA, a trio of unlikely wayfarers arrive at Bag End. Stunned, Bilbo looks into the eyes of two lads he thought dead...and their familiar companion. How did they survive? Sit alongside Bilbo as he serves tea and discovers what REALLY happened between Tauriel and Thranduil on Ravenhill. Fixit!AU co-authored by Summerald (Fili) and BlueRiverSteel (Kili).
1. Chapter 1 - An Unexpected Arrival

**Chapter One: An Unexpected Arrival**

Fíli led the way to a table in the corner by the hearth fire. He sat with his back to the wall so he could see the entrance and keep an eye on the crowd. His travel companions settled into seats on the other side, one dressed as a tall, thin man, one just another dwarf.

_That's all we are now, me and Kíli. Just plain dwarves. Wandering dwarves, itinerant dwarves…vagabond dwarves.  
_  
Stop it, he told himself as his brother looked at him in silence.

"Feels strange being back here," he said.

Kíli nodded. Their tall companion peered out from under her hood, eyes wide at the strangeness of this place. She'd never been to the Shire and she was plainly out of her element.

Poor lass. She was many years older than both of them, but in all her life had never ventured outside the land of her birth. Everything was new to her, strange and foreign. It made her a bit vulnerable and Fíli had softened to her. He hadn't wanted to like this elf lady in the beginning—they both knew it. But he appreciated her bravery in sticking with them and they shared the common goal of looking after his brother. Kíli had always been a handful; now even more so.

Tauriel looked at him anxiously, her expression uncertain.

Hobbits, Fíli realized. The inn was full of them and they were loud, laughing, drunk, and lovably ridiculous. He saw Kíli take her hand in reassurance.

A buxom, smiling Hobbit lass approached. "What'll you have my good dwarves?" She smiled at them, looked a bit askance at the "man," then raised her eyebrows.

"Two ales each for my brother and I," Fíli said with confidence. "And your best wine for our friend, here." Fíli smiled politely and slid a silver Bree coin across the table.

She took the coin and bobbed. "Thank'ee lads. I'll send Myrtle over with the ales…" She whisked herself away. When Myrtle delivered four tankards and a goblet, and Fíli stopped her with a hand on her arm.

"Lassie," he said with a respectful nod. "Is there a likely lad to send on an errand? We've an old friend in these parts. Hoping he'll join us."

She flashed a nervous smile, then glanced about the public room. "Well, young Rudi…Rudigar, I should say…Rudigar might do it for a copper."

Fíli nodded and she hailed a young hobbit not fully grown and introduced the lad.

"Rudi, these travelers need a runner," she nodded and left.

Fíli put a small copper coin on the table and Kíli set a full leather pouch of pipeweed beside it.

Fíli smiled as kindly as he could. "Here's the job, lad. Take this up to Bag End and deliver it into the hand of Mr. Bilbo Baggins. Please ask if he'd care to meet old friends in the Green Dragon." Fíli nodded to his brother to indicate that the two of them were the friends. "Another copper for you when it's done."

The lad lifted the pouch and weighed it, approving the offering. "For Mr. Bilbo, sir?" The hobbit lad's curls bounced as he considered.

Kíli confirmed with a sober nod.

The lad grabbed the coin and took off, dodging hale gaffers on his way out. One old fellow, a miller perhaps, frowned at the lad, then looked back at Fíli .

Their eyes met. The old miller's narrowed. At the bar, a trio of farmers started a rousing tune about a randy red rooster.

_Hobbits_. Fíli kept his expression bland and turned back to his companions.

Kíli was reaching for his flagon. Tauriel sniffed her Shire wine with caution, then looked at it with pleasant surprise.

"Interesting," she said. "A bit plum-like."

"Give me ale, any time," Kíli said, shaking his head.

Fíli restrained himself from rolling his eyes. They were opposites, those two. But they had become inseparable. Go figure.

"As long as it packs a punch," Fíli raised his flagon. "I am more than happy to drink it," he declared, grinning as the other two joined him and they bumped drinks together.

"Here's to hoping our journey hasn't been for naught," he said. The two dwarves drank deeply; the elf sipped.

Kíli drained his flagon and came up for air. "Nicely hoppy. Yes! Shire ales use the best hops." He grinned happily.

Fíli smiled and agreed, setting his mug down with a thump.

Both ales later Fíli looked up to see that the messenger lad had returned.

"Mr. Bilbo, sir, says you are welcome at his home and insists you…" the lad stopped, eyes wide, considering the dwarves.

"What?" Kíli demanded.

The lad looked slightly frightened but adopted an air of recitation and cleared his throat. "Mr. Bilbo says: get your sorry backsides up the hill for a proper welcome...and says he assumes you know the way without getting lost..." The young hobbit's voice trailed off, as if unsure of the reception to such a cheeky answer.

Fíli snorted. "Ah. Well, that was never _our_ problem." He smiled sadly. After a moment he slid the second copper to the lad. "Well done, lad. We'll be up shortly, then." He finished his ale as the lad made himself scarce.

Together, the three travelers stood, Fíli taking a moment to settle his footing and shrug the kink out of his shoulder. Kíli kept his weight off his bad leg as he stood, limping just slightly as they left, Tauriel ever-watchful at their heels. She was lithe as ever…just more shy and anxious.

Outside, the evening air was crisp and billowing blue-grey clouds to the north hinted at late winter rain. Leaving their ponies well stabled, the travelers made their way from the roundabout to the Hill, passing only a single gardener on his way down.

The little gate and the round green door looked much as they had on that late summer night almost three years past.

But so much was different. _So much…_

Fíli rang the bell, his brother and friend next to him.

"Hello! Hello!" The door opened to a happy voice, and then Fíli found himself looking into the startled eyes of someone he'd not seen in nearly three years.

"Bilbo," he murmured. He meant to bow, meant to give the fellow a big hug and laugh at the sight of him.

But for Fíli, seeing Bilbo again brought back the sudden pain of knowing their uncle was dead, that so much had gone wrong.

He stared. Blinked.

And Bilbo Baggins stood with mouth open in sheer disbelief, his snub-nosed face drained of all color. He took a half-step back, looked very puzzled, then hit the floor with a firm *thunk*.

* * *

****A/N Welcome** to this NEW story co-authored by **Summerald** (me) who will be writing in Fili's POV and my fab writing buddy **BlueRiverSteel,** who will be writing in Kili's POV. We intend to alternate chapters as we develop this storyline. Please hop on over and visit our other stories, but in the meantime, welcome aboard! Please favorite or follow...chapter two will be along shortly!

**Don't be shy-drop us a note as a review or PM! All feedback welcome!**

**Mahal's Blessings!** Summerald and BlueRiverSteel!


	2. Chapter 2 - A Tale or Two to Tell

**Chapter Two: A Tale or Two To Tell**

* * *

Kíli laughed abruptly at the sight poor Bilbo made; lying there on his own foyer carpet, not much different from the last time he'd been in this house, almost three years prior. _That _night, it had been the incessant teasing about death by dragon that had bowled the hobbit over.

Much had changed since then.

The thought sobered Kíli quickly as he and Fíli bent down to help up their friend. The younger Durin could tell his brother wasn't as amused as he by the apparent inequality in Bilbo's fortitude—the hobbit could face down a literal dragon, battle orcs (with a sword!), and plunge himself headlong into a warg's path when it stalked toward an unconscious friend; but give the poor lad a couple of ghosts on his front porch—smiling ones no less—and he was down for the count.

Bilbo jerked awake just as they managed to maneuver him onto the small couch in his sitting room. His gaze locked with Kíli's, his blue eyes almost comically wide in his still-bloodless face.

Taking mercy on his friend, Kíli gripped the nape of his neck so that Bilbo could see the truth in his eyes. "It's all right," he said firmly. "It is all right. We're really here, Bilbo."

Bilbo's breath stuttered as he looked to each of them; Kíli, then Fíli, then back to Kíli, then past both their shoulders.

"T-Tauriel?" he gasped. Kíli was half-offended at that—Bilbo had barely known Tauriel at all, much less stomped over half of Middle Earth with her—and it was she he looked to first?

"It is true, Master Hobbit," she spoke softly as she sat gracefully in the chair across from him. "They were near death, but not entirely gone, when…"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves just yet," Fíli interrupted, casting a look at their elven companion. Kíli looked back to Bilbo, who was still rather pale but no longer seemed in any danger of falling headfirst onto the carpet. Now that the lad was more stable, Kíli took a moment to actually _look _at him.

The hobbit's hair was shorter, though no less curly than Kíli remembered. His clothes were thick and well-made, and he was obviously much better fed than the last time he'd seen him. Bilbo's forehead and cheeks were only slightly lined, in a manner that bespoke more smiles than frowns. His friend's eyes, while they still held a haunted look, were open and kind.

All in all, he looked healthy and content, which was really more than could be said for either Kíli or his brother. To see their friend well did his heart good.

"You lads are truly alive?" Bilbo asked, looking between them again. Fíli, then Kíli, then back to Fíli, who answered.

"More or less, yes."

"More _more_ than _less_," Kíli quirked a small smile at the hobbit. "And it's really wonderful to see you, if I may say."

Bilbo let out the most heartbreaking sound before throwing his arms around both dwarves' necks and pulling them tightly against him. Kíli felt his own throat close up with a wild mix of emotions—everything from outright joy to breathtaking grief—and just let the trembling hobbit have his moment.

"Mahal, you lads…" Bilbo muttered as he pulled back a full minute later to hold them both at arm's length. "I can't believe this! You're actually here, _in my house_! H-how? How is it possible?" He addressed Fíli directly. "I _saw _you _die_, lad. Saw Azog stab you in the back myself…"

"We will explain everything, Bilbo, I promise you we will," Fíli assured him. "But it will not be a short story, nor an easy one."

Bilbo blinked as if suddenly coming back to himself. "Of course! You have doubtless travelled far and long and are likely exhausted! Where are my manners?" He hopped to his feet, stumbling only a little over what Kíli suspected were shaking knees. "Come! Sit, make yourselves comfortable. I'll put the kettle on. You'll stay for dinner, of course." He bustled toward the kitchen, where they could hear him muttering to himself, "Fíli and Kíli. _And _Tauriel. Who could have guessed?"

Fíli turned to him when they were certain Bilbo was occupied. "He won't take this well," he observed, concern written over his features. Kíli snorted.

"None of us have taken any of this very well, brother."

Tauriel sniffed her protest, and Kíli cocked an eyebrow in challenge. She stared at him for a moment, then left it at that.

They all sat in companionable silence, the only sound the distant clattering of pots from the kitchen, accompanied by the quiet humming of their host. Fíli was brooding again—a habit he'd taken up of late, one Kíli desperately wished to break him of, but had no idea how—his gaze fixed on the cheery fire in the hearth, a small frown set upon his stern face.

Lighter coloring or no, his brother was the one who had come to most resemble Thorin in the last twenty four months, Kíli reflected. He wasn't used to this Fíli yet; the dour and bitter brother that had developed in Thranduil's prison cells, nor the rebellious and angry displaced Prince that had left Erebor not four months prior.

Kíli sighed. He didn't _want _to get used to that brother; he wanted _his _Fíli back.

But Fíli had improved, of late, he had to admit; the open road, with no companions but his brother and a relatively young and open-minded elf—whom he thought Fee might be warming to a little bit—had smoothed away some of the cynicism and bitter sharp edges that the last two years had created in his brother. Fíli smiled now, more easily than he had since Thorin was alive, even laughed sometimes; and just two days ago Kíli had awoken to a harmless garden snake being dangled before his face.

He _hated _snakes.

It had been worth it, though, when the ensuing loud—and semi-violent—reaction had sent Fíli into a fit of laughter the likes of which Kíli hadn't heard from his brother in…Mahal, in _ages_.

He hid a grin behind his hand, pretending to yawn. Bilbo bustled in just then, carrying a large tray with teacups and a steaming kettle, as well as a plate of what looked to be sandwiches.

"Here we are," he said, smiling at each of them in turn. "I assume chamomile is acceptable?"

Bilbo's guests nodded, and the hobbit set to preparing the hot drinks; to Kíli's amusement, he would look up now and then, study all three of them, and shake his head as he went back to his task, smiling the whole while.

When everyone was settled in with tea and sandwiches (roast and cheese, Kíli was happy to find), Bilbo sank into his armchair with a sigh. He said nothing at first, merely studied his friends, a frown slowly spreading over his face as he took in Fíli, then Kíli, and then Tauriel.

"You look…" he hesitated, seemingly searching for the right word. Kíli wondered, with tired mirth, what descriptor the hobbit would settle on.

_Exhausted?_

Worn?

Ill?

Half-dead?

"…peaked," Bilbo finished. "None of you have been eating well, have you?"

Fíli's eyes flicked to Kíli's, and he quirked half a smile at his brother. "No worse than we ate on the Quest," Fíli answered. Bilbo harrumphed his opinion about that.

"Well then, you'll just have to stay for a time while I make sure you lot get some real food and rest."

"Perhaps you'd better let us tell our tale first," Fíli said tightly. "Before you invite us to stay."

"Nonsense," Bilbo huffed. "You're welcome here anytime, regardless." The hobbit tilted his head and raised his brow in a quiet expression of admission that Kíli recognized. "Not that I'm not anxious to hear your story, and I have a bucket load of questions, so please…do begin."

The companions all looked at one another as if trying to decide who should start. "Well," Fíli began, hesitantly, "we should probably start by stating the obvious: neither Azog nor Bolg's killing blows accomplished their task, thanks to Tauriel and Thranduil."

The hobbit's eyebrows rose another inch. "The Elvenking?"

"Indeed." Fíli sighed. "You know that elvish healing magic is legendary. I should like to tell you he helped us out of kindness, but it was not at all that simple."

Kíli snorted at that, and Bilbo looked toward him, startled. "That is rather a fantastic understatement, brother."

Fíli smirked, then turned to Tauriel. "Perhaps you ought to begin. You were the only one conscious for the beginning of this tale." The elf nodded slowly, fixing her gaze on the fire before speaking softly.

"Thranduil found me after…" she hesitated. "After it was over…with Kili dying in my arms."

* * *

A/N: Hello, everyone! I'm honored to be co-writing this with my dear friend Summer; we both have seen the film and she had a fantastic WHAT IF? idea, we brainstormed a while, and here we are! Love to see you along for the ride, please follow and review, let us know what you think!

Cheers, Blue


	3. Chapter 3 - A Knife in the Heart

**Chapter 3: A Knife in the Heart**

Fíli watched Tauriel stare into Bilbo's hearth fire as she began their tale.

"When My Lord Thranduil found me there, he was in tears himself," Tauriel said. "I took his grief as a sign that he was in truth moved to pity. That he could see the senselessness of the loss…"

She glanced at Kíli. "I could not bear the idea that such a young and vibrant spirit was gone. And Kíli had come to be my friend..." Her voice trailed off.

The little room was silent.

"So when Thranduil knelt beside me," she began again. "And whispered in my ear, I believed him."

* * *

The battle was over, but Tauriel could think of nothing past the crushing pain in her chest and the icy wind that nearly froze her tears in place. She gripped the gloved hand of Kíli, Son of Durin, and wept.

Vaguely, she knew when her Lord Thranduil knelt beside her, his own eyes welling with sympathy.

"We may not yet be too late," he whispered, his words soothing and slow. He took the young dwarf's hand from her, then felt the lad's forehead with his other. "Aüle's folk linger long before the spirit flees," he said. "And there are still a few among us who know the ways of the Eldar. Galadriel, the Istari…" he looked deep into her Silvan eyes. "In small measure, the half-elven," he said, meaning Elrond. "And in full, the Kings of the Sindar." He closed his eyes and inclined his head, indicating himself.

Tauriel's thoughts whirled. "What are you saying?" she whispered. "You can heal him?" Did she dare hope? Would her Lord King even consider…? "My lord, I would beg every forgiveness, make every penance…"

"For his life?" Thranduil's face was proud and indignant. "I am not so uncaring as that."

It was then that two of the Elvenking's personal guard appeared, bearing Kíli's brother on a makeshift stretcher.

"My lord, we bring this one to lay with the other." They set down the stretcher, bowed their heads to him, and waited for instruction. Thranduil dismissed them.

And Tauriel looked from the still face of Fíli to the somber face of Kíli. "My Lord, they are brothers." Dared she hope? "Can you not save them both?"

His eyes had flashed angry then, just for a moment, as if she overstepped. But he blinked and his eyes lost their fire, becoming more compassionate again.

In reply, he closed his eyes, sat very straight, and chanted low, his voice rising. A wind swirled past, swooping snowflakes past and then rising—whipping her hair left, then right in a sudden whirl of power that stopped as suddenly as it started.

She opened her eyes to see his fingertips leave Kíli's forehead.

He breathed...the young dwarf's chest rose and fell. Next to him, his brother breathed as well.

Tauriel was still, her eyes wide as she looked at her Lord King, hardly believing, hardly _hoping_...

He stood. "Here is the price. You will help bear them back to my Halls. Now. I have called them back, but they will need care to survive. You will do this."

"Would it not be best to..." she began.

But the scathing look he cast upon her stilled her tongue. She bowed her head, lest he reverse his decision. "Of course, My Lord. I will stay with them. _Cerithon i iesteg._" (I will do as you wish.)

He narrowed his eyes as if to say _much better, _then turned and called for his Guard, giving instructions. Tauriel found herself scrambling to her feet, hurrying to stay with them as Thranduil's stern assistants shifted Kíli to his brother's stretcher and lifted them, marching in step as they took their burdens down the sloping path of Ravenhill.

* * *

Tauriel set her empty teacup on the table and Bilbo started, as if coming back to himself. "A refill. Yes, of course. Right here," he stood, checked the pot, and poured for her.

"So," he said, pouring for the lads and himself as well. "Thranduil revived them and took them to his Halls to recover," he summed up. "You know, I saw Gandalf do that very thing…with Thorin. After the eagles rescued us."

"Yes..." Tauriel said, looking into her cup, freshly steaming. "It is a talent the great ones have." She bit her lip, looked bleakly at Kíli, then shook her head, unable to say more. "They were alive, but far from fully healed. Their wounds were truly grievous and for many weeks I wondered if they would really recover."

Fíli took a deep breath. "All I remember," he said. "Is waking up back in the Elvenking's dungeon and thinking we had never left."

Kíli was nodding. "Me as well. Except I knew that Fíli was beside me."

Bilbo shook his head. "But you were in separate cells. When I freed you, you were not together." He wagged a finger.

"That's right," Fíli confirmed. "And that's how I knew, after a time, that things were very different."

"He'd locked up Tauriel along with us, for one," Kíli glowered.

"Locked up?" Bilbo asked, looking from one to the other.

Tauriel only nodded, her eyes cast down in deep regret. "If I were being kind, I would say Thranduil's original offer had been in earnest and what happened later an unfortunate happenstance."

Kíli snorted.

"But even I have to admit," Tauriel looked at Bilbo with a bleak expression. "That it's hard to see it that way now."

Bilbo sat back, tapping his thumb on the cushioned arm of his chair. When Tauriel didn't immediately take up the story again, Fíli cleared his throat.

"It took a few weeks to really heal," he said. He rolled his left shoulder. "This shoulder...still not quite right. Wrenched it badly, I guess." He frowned, then smiled sadly. "When Gandalf used Eldar magic to heal Thorin, our uncle was back on his feet in a couple days."

Bilbo nodded, recalling that moment on the Carrock when he'd feared Thorin had not survived. He'd landed to find Gandalf tending to his fallen friend, saw the miracle of Thorin's eyes opening...saw him struggle to stand on unsteady feet.

"It took us much longer," Fíli admitted.

* * *

Fíli awoke someplace very quiet, but he was with his brother, that much he knew. Bandaged and weak, it took all his energy to sit up and drink broth. Elven healing, he'd been told, had got his heart beating and his lungs working. The wound through his back along with six or seven other injuries, including a broken collarbone, would heal slowly in their own time.

But worse than that was the slight amnesia—the sense that his brain was full of fog and that he drifted through it. He could recall bits and pieces of things, but nothing was clear all the way back to the day when he'd first laid eyes on the hoard of Erebor and seen the horrible reality of his uncle deep in gold sickness. That image was seared into his memory.

Tauriel had told them Thorin was dead. That the battle was over. That Dain had claimed the Raven Crown and declared himself King Under the Mountain.

He didn't matter, he realized. Thorin's curse had made them all unfit to rule. Maybe he was cursed with it himself. _Unfit...unworthy._

Damn Erebor, then. Dain could have it. Fíli's heart was broken, the apparent rejection resulting in a wall of pain he fortified with resentment. To hell with all of them, and to hell with Thorin for not having been stronger.

Kíli was faring a little better, and he hobbled around their cell once every hour in a desperate bid to gain strength.

Fíli woke only to full angry awareness when he heard that voice. That silky-sly murmur of the Elvenking coming to look down his nose at them.

"You must understand that you are not prisoners," he heard him say to Tauriel. "I fear them stumbling out of here in their delirium. The world is not safe for the Sons of Durin. We protect them, Tauriel."

Fíli stared at the wall, hearing her careful attempts to persuade Thranduil otherwise.

To no avail.

"You have food and water and the luxury of separate sleeping quarters—and a bathing pool." A haughty sniff in Tauriel's direction. "I implore you—get them to use it."

Fíli had refused; turned his back to the bars of their "quarters" and pretended not to hear.

It was Kíli who had convinced him otherwise.

"Fee. You can't do this. I…" he'd heard his brother's voice catch. "We lost Thorin. I can't lose you…"

"Leave me be, Kíli. I'm not well." Fíli lay huddled on his blanket. His shoulder hurt; his ribs ached.

"I agree. But let's get you better."

Fíli ignored him. Turned away. Shut him out. _Go weep in the arms of your elf lady._

And then one night he woke to find little brother snuggled at this back just as he'd done as a dwarfling. He reached down to touch Kíli's arm and felt once again the absolute faith of his _nadadith_. He'd been surprised to hear Kíli sniff and turned to see tears on his face.

"_Mahal_…tell me you're not giving up," Kíli whispered through tears. "I can't do this if you give up."

Fíli clenched his eyes shut at the sight of his brother's pain. They'd been raised to fight…fight as long as they lived. "Not giving up," he managed. "Just don't know…" he shook his head. "Don't know how we get past this."

"Together," Kíli said, his voice stronger. "We do it together, Fíli." Kíli's strong hand found his and gripped tight.

"Yes. All right," Fíli agreed. Then he told his brother about his fears—about the gold sickness.

"Fee…there's no gold here. It's all in that damned Mountain, miles away."

That was the turning point. Fíli knew then that it was high time he found his way out of the fog and got a good look around. And where was his gear? He suddenly wanted his sword, his knives, a mace..._Mahal_, he'd take Kíli's bow if there was nothing else at hand.

* * *

"It was four or five weeks," Fíli told Bilbo. "Before I was thinking straight again." He stared at Bilbo's fire. "It was just so hard to understand that he was gone."

Across the room, Bilbo made a sad sound, his hand covering his face. "I know…" he murmured, his voice husky. "Believe me, lads." Bilbo shook his head. "I still can't quite…" The hobbit seemed to struggle for the right word. "Accept it. I can't." He set his teacup and saucer on the side table and stood, going to the window and looking out.

Fíli saw Tauriel's eyes follow him, then she looked back at Kíli, her expression plain. She was wondering if coming here had been the right thing.

"What happened then?" Bilbo asked, turning to face them. "How did you get free?"

* * *

****THANK YOU for reading...**Blue and I are overwhelmed by the number of likes, favorites, follows and reviews in just two days! You guys rock! Please don't forget to drop another review or note to let us know what you think! If you're just joining us, don't be shy...and welcome aboard!

Going forward, we're planning about one chapter a week, and expect to wrap the tale somewhere between 20-30 chapters. We've been busy plotting it out, so hoping you all like where it goes!

Just a last reminder that Summerandblue is a writing team-and we invite you to check out our individual stories by Summerald and BlueRiverSteel.

Mahal's Blessings, everyone!

**Summer and Blue****


	4. Chapter 4 - A Deficit of Honor

**Chapter 4: A Deficit of Honor**

Kíli smiled at Bilbo as he took up the tale. "We didn't ever escape, _exactly_."

The hobbit's eyebrows raised in unspoken question, and Tauriel made a sound that was very nearly a snort. The brothers looked at her, Fíli askance (elves didn't _snort_) and Kíli grinning. "Well, you did, I suppose, but that's part of the story."

He turned back to Bilbo. "Even though we were prisoners, not every day was horrible. The elves were…" He squinted, looking for the right word. "We were never mistreated. We were warm, fed, free to move about our 'room', and had medicines when we needed them. Fíli and I had begun training again, re-learning to fight with our new...handicaps...and doing everything we could to stay fit and get stronger…"

* * *

"Come on, Kee!" the elder Durin grinned at his brother. "I could've blocked that in my sleep!"

"Aye," Kíli said, circling slowly, looking for an opening. "I daresay you just did. Wake up, Fíli!" He darted forward at this, bringing his dominant fist to bear on Fíli's bad side, laughing when his brother focused too hard on blocking it to notice Kíli's other hand land a soft strike on his kidney.

Fíli growled, knowing a blow like that would've taken him out of a real fight easily. He spun about, putting a bit of distance between the two, and Kíli knew he was cursing his inability to adjust to his bad shoulder. The compromised range of motion affected everything from Fíli's stance to his strikes and parries, and it was desperately frustrating, Kíli knew. His leg was much the same-it was difficult to depend on it, locking up and collapsing at odd moments, lances of pain radiating outward if Fee landed so much as a soft strike against the thigh, the inability to jump as well or as high. It was a lot to learn to deal with.

But that's why they were working like this, he and Fíli. They both needed to be able to fight if they ever wanted to escape this place and be of any use when they got out.

Figuring Fíli was now well and truly focused on his frustration, Kíli charged him with all the speed he could muster and a grin that should've been a warning to the elder Durin. Fíli stood unmoving, and Kíli almost laughed with his victory, until his brother neatly sidestepped, sending the lad stumbling toward the wall of the cell.

Kíli yelped, managing to stop himself just in time to avoid bashing his skull on the rock. But the move had unbalanced him, and Fíli stepped up behind easily, crooking an arm about Kíli's neck and laughing good-naturedly as he folded him into a headlock.

"What was that you were saying about being asleep, little brother?"

Kíli grunted, trying to back out of the position. "You looked like you were getting angry, I thought I could use it against you."

"Ahhh, fooled you."

Kíli growled, bringing one hand up to dig his fingers into Fíli's ribs. The older dwarf gasped, cursing his brother's knowledge of his tickle-spots, but refused to let go. He held Kíli's head tightly while he laughed, squirming in an attempt to escape his brothers dancing fingers.

Kíli noticed Tauriel smiling faintly from her perch on her bed-it was the first time he'd seen anything but depression or anxiety from her since he woke, and the realization made him grin again, despite his unhelpful defeat.

"Tauriel!" he shouted. "Make yourself useful, lass, come and help me!"

She quirked an eyebrow at him. "I believe you and your brother both specified I was not to interfere before this spar began." She looked to Fíli as if for confirmation. "I am certain it was to avoid just this situation, _meleth nin_. You earned this loss by being too hasty to rush your opponent."

Somewhere above him, Fíli laughed, and Kíli held back a grin at the sound, keeping his affronted facade in place. "I am betrayed," he moaned dramatically, going limp in Fíli's arms, making his brother laugh even harder.

"And I've won!" Fíli ruffled Kíli's hair before letting him go. Both lads stood, brushing themselves off, before pressing their foreheads together in a gesture of affection.

"Well fought, brother," Kíli murmured with a smile.

"And you, _nadadith_."

The brothers had walked toward Tauriel's bed—the three liked to discuss their matches afterward, to garner each other's criticism as well as suggestions for improvement—when there were footsteps heard down the hall, coming toward the cell.

Kíli spun, his brother beside him and Tauriel instantly at their backs, the levity of the previous moment gone entirely.

Five flaxen-haired guards appeared at the barred doors, one jingling a key in the lock. They said not a word until two stood just inside the cell, practically glaring.

"What is your business here, Faeren?" Tauriel stepped before the brothers, placing herself deliberately between them and the guards. Kíli tensed.

The taller of the two guards-Faeren, Kíli guessed-pointed a finger imperiously at him. "King Thranduil requests the presence of this one."

Beside him, Fíli growled audibly, and before him, Tauriel tensed; but Kíli stepped forward. "Why?"

The guard wrinkled his nose in poorly-concealed disgust. "It is not my concern, nor yours. Now come, before we take you forcibly."

"You'll have to go through me if you want him," Fíli threatened, pulling Kíli back by his elbow. Kíli shook him off firmly.

_No, nadad._

"It is all right," he murmured, to both Tauriel and his brother. "I will go. All will be well."

* * *

Eyes wide, Bilbo shuddered in his overstuffed armchair next to his little fire in Bag End. "Where did they take you? They wouldn't torture you, would they?"

Kíli laughed a little. "No, I don't believe elves would stoop so low; even ones as impetuous and arrogant as Woodland Elves. No offense to present company, of course," he added, glancing at Tauriel.

The she-elf just shrugged. "It is unfortunate that I cannot dispute such labels, but they do warrant them."

Fíli grunted his agreement across the room, where he had taken to pacing slowly, like a caged lion.

He _hated _this part of the story, Kíli knew.

"I was completely shocked when they led me away to Thranduil's throne room—but he was not alone there."

* * *

Kíli shrugged off Faeren's hand on his shoulder as they entered the room. "I cannot go anywhere," he growled. "No need to shove."

"Silence, whelp," the guard hissed, just as Kíli heard Thranduil's sly voice:

"Ahhh, the younger Son of Durin, here we are. Just as I said, Dain."

Kíli's eyes widened as they landed on his distant cousin, then narrowed when they took in the sight of his crown—the very same one Thorin had worn just before that fateful battle.

_Honorless usurper…_

But Dain looked shocked into silence at the sight of him, and Kíli began to wonder if anyone had even known that he and Fili were locked up here, languishing in Thranduil's dungeons.

A horrible pit in his stomach told him no, they hadn't.

"Kíli?" Dain's voice cracked on his name, and he suddenly wanted to embrace the dwarf king, simply for being kin.

He hadn't realized how much he'd missed his kin.

"My Lord Dain," he answered, inclining his head respectfully, then looking to the Elvenking. "You never even told him we were alive, did you?" Anger gathered, hot and biting, in his gut. "Did you!?"

"I did not," the elf answered smoothly. "We did not know if you would survive at first."

"It's been _weeks_!" Kíli protested. "We've been on the mend for weeks! He had a right to know!"

"And now he does," Thranduil interrupted, fire flashing in his blue eyes. "And your survival has proven to be most..._convenient_...for all parties involved." He turned his gaze to the dwarf king. "Both princes are well enough to travel now, they grow stronger by the day. I am more than happy to return them to you immediately, should you be so kind as to return what you now hold that is mine."

Dain's eyes darkened considerably at that. "Why you lying, conniving, tree-shagging _snake_!" he growled. "You would withhold my kin from me for the sake of simple jewelry?"

"Or perhaps you would withhold my jewels from me at the expense of your kin," Thranduil answered, eyes narrowed. "Which is the greater sin, I ask you?"

The dwarf king snorted, beard swinging as he turned away abruptly. Kíli recognized the gesture—Thorin had often used it when dealing with him as a dwarfling—as one of absolute rage, an attempt to calm oneself before addressing the issue. Thranduil said nothing, only sat imperiously on his raised throne, looking down on everyone with something akin to satisfaction in his gaze.

"I require time to consult my councilors," Dain growled, his voice dangerously low as he turned back to the Elvenking. "I will give you an answer in three days' time. My cousins will not be harmed."

Kíli blinked, feeling a bit faint.

Three days? Dain needed three days to decide if he and Fíli were worth a few jewels?

The part of his brain that had endured hundreds of hours of lessons in politics told him that Dain was simply playing the game—refusing to let the elf king have what he wanted right away, holding off because his pride wouldn't allow him to simply give in to Thranduil's demands, that he was grasping for some sort of control in the situation.

But it still hurt. A lot.

"They shall remain secure with me," Thranduil promised, smug with what he knew would be his victory in a few days. ""Well guarded in the deepest levels of my Hall."

* * *

Bilbo sat, jaw slack, staring at Kíli. "You're bloody joking," he said hoarsely.

Fíli growled from the corner, and Kíli shook his head. "I wish I was, my friend. Thranduil tried to barter our freedom for his jewels, and Dain—"

"—Dain left us to rot in Thranduil's dungeons while he 'considered' the deal," Fíli said, his voice low with resentment.

"Most humiliating moment of my life," Kíli admitted softly.

Tauriel reached for his hand and squeezed it gently, and for the first time that afternoon, Bilbo saw a glimpse of the fiery elf maiden he had only briefly known three years prior. "I, too, was shocked at the dwarf king's reaction. I am certain your uncle would have done better."

Kíli laughed, and even Fíli had to smile a little at that. "Are you kidding?" the older dwarf said. "Uncle would've tossed Thranduil's jewels in his face, and then torn Mirkwood down branch by branch to get us. At least," he looked a little uncomfortable. "The Uncle we knew growing up would have."

Bilbo looked sympathetic. "He would have indeed, lad. Thorin loved you—even more than all the gold in Erebor—and he remembered it before the end." He shook his head. "So what was Dain's answer? I don't understand..."

* * *

****A/N:** Thanks for reading! We continue to be thrilled with everyone's response, so our hats off to you! Don't forget to drop us a note as a review or PM and let us know what you think...it's a big help.

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_Happy New Year and Mahal's Blessings from BlueRiverSteel and Summerald!_

**—Blue (and Summer)****


	5. Chapter 5 - Together and Alone

**Chapter 5 - Together and Alone**

Bilbo held his teacup and shook his head sadly. "I don't understand why Dain needed time," he said. "I mean, three days? Why leave you there for three days? Send for the jewels, hand them over, and take you home." Bilbo stabbed a finger in the air to emphasize each point, then made a hobbit-like frown of exasperation.

"Politics," Fíli growled, pacing again with suppressed anger. "Pretenses...scheming. When Kíli was shoved back into our cell and told us what happened…" He shook his head once. "I was livid. And I knew right off that Thranduil never saved us out of the goodness of his heart." He glanced at Tauriel.

Bilbo looked at the slender elf-lass. She stared at the tea in her hand, her eyes wide and haunted.

"It was done in good faith," Bilbo said to her. "Your bargain with Thranduil. It cannot be your fault that his intentions were so self-serving."

Tauriel looked away. "I thought he understood my grief, that he acted with compassion. So when I truly saw that we were just his convenient means to an end..." She closed her eyes.

The poor lass had a healthy serving of guilt, Bilbo realized. "Regardless of the outcome, she saved your lives," he said to the brothers. "And if I've learned nothing else in my travels, I know this: good deeds can so easily go awry," he said quietly. "She trusted her King."

Fíli stopped pacing and considered their friend. He nodded, acknowledging Bilbo's admission.

"That cuts both ways, unfortunately," Fíli said. "We also trusted that Dain would see us freed, but it didn't take long to understand our cousin was being underhanded again. He refused to help Thorin at the outset, showed up after the dragon was dead and only then when he smelled profit…" Fíli clenched a fist. "Then just left us there as if he couldn't be bothered to make a decision. Disloyal, honorless, rotten-hearted…"

"I think we all know he's a conniving ass, Fee," Kíli stated.

"So it really took him three days?" Bilbo said, nudging them to keep going with the story.

"More like three weeks," Fíli said in a quiet snarl. "And things got worse before they got better."

* * *

Fíli stood alone in King Thranduil's presence. It had been a week since cousin Dain's visit, and still no word had come back from the Mountain. This time, Thranduil's guards had taken _him_ from the locked cell and brought him alone before the Elvenking.

"Your cousin Dain has laid claim to the Raven Crown," Thranduil said from beneath lidded eyes. "Yet you are the eldest sister-son of Thorin Oakenshield, grandson to Thror, King Under the Mountain."

Fíli did not answer. Let Thranduil think him stupid—but he refused to play along.

"It is an injustice to you. Even I," Thranduil laid a long-fingered hand over his heart. "Feel the unfairness of it. He leaves you out, as if your existence does not count. As if you are nothing more than another nameless warrior, fallen in battle with no honor."

Fíli narrowed his eyes and stood straight. Or as straight as he could with his not-quite-healed ribs and shoulder.

"One can't help but assess his motives," Thranduil went on. "If he acknowledges that you live, it makes things...inconvenient for him." Thranduil seemed to smirk. "How unfortunate. I fear you've been...disowned."

Fíli still did not speak.

"You might consider that it is possible," Thranduil said, "for me to support an alternative to Erebor's choice of ruler. A resolution to the White Council that would benefit you as well as your brother."

Fíli felt his heartbeat quicken, though he tried his best to remain unmoved.

"I, of course, recognize the value of someone with whom I have an understanding. I," he emphasized. "Would never forget such a strong, young scion of royalty. I would lend my assistance..."

Fíli continued to remain silent. He could see it—the thing Thranduil thought he could offer: Erebor's throne with Fíli upon it, his cousin Dain sent back to the Iron Hills. He wondered what kind of deal Thranduil would propose to sweeten the offer. Something more for the dwarves? Promises of mutual aid? Reparations for past injustices?

But what the Elvenking was really suggesting was treachery; Fíli recognized it sure enough and he answered only with a stone-hard glare.

"Guards," Thranduil's voice did not change, yet a pair of flaxen-haired wardens appeared, all the same. "Take our young Prince back to his place of rest while he tries to _think_."

Fíli barely registered the insult before being shoved sideways, thrust away from Thranduil's high seat, and then pushed to leave. He tried to focus on memorizing the path—counting the twists and turns between the throne room and the dungeon as he was shoved or pushed again every six or seven steps. He began to wonder if his escorts were taking him on a roundabout path just to prolong the humiliation.

And at that, he half expected to be taken someplace new, to be separated from his brother and isolated—but to his relief the guards clanged open the door to their familiar abode, the warden ordering Kíli and Tauriel away as they waited for Fíli to step back inside.

It was more demeaning than being shoved—they held the door and waited for him to walk through, for him _to choose_ his own continued imprisonment.

He did it only because his brother was there. He glared and walked through with slow, purposeful steps. They slammed the door practically on his heels, secured the bolt with a resounding clack and were gone.

Fíli stood there, shoulders tight with tension, jaw clenched. He wanted to slam his fist into the wall, drive a sword deep into someone's gut…

But he didn't have a sword. He had no weapons of any kind.

"What did he say?" Kíli closed the distance between them, then stopped. He seemed wary.

Fíli wanted to roar.

"Nothing," he said quietly. "He said nothing."

"At all?" Tauriel's voice rang against the stone walls of their prison and she stepped quickly forward. "Was there no…?"

Kíli held up a hand to silence her. She stopped, they looked at each other, and Kíli shook his head once. After a moment she seemed to acquiesce, turning away to pace, fingers fidgeting together in worry. Kíli turned back to him.

"Tell me what happened," he said in a low, deep voice. His brows were drawn in a glower that was so very like Thorin that Fíli huffed.

"He would offer me what Dain has taken," Fíli whispered, glaring with the insult of it.

"He oversteps," Kíli murmured. "The Kingship of Erebor is not his to give."

Fíli met his brother's eyes. They both knew it wasn't exactly Dain's to take, either.

"He just means to create strife between us," Fíli said. "Pit us against each other." He shook his head. "I will not fall for that. Don't you do it either."

Kíli's eyes narrowed, then he nodded.

That night they made themselves eat their meal together with Tauriel, letting themselves fall back into their habit of easy camaraderie, showing their wardens that nothing had changed.

Seven days later, Thranduil's guards came for Tauriel. And while she may have walked obediently forward and given Kíli a shush, Fíli saw the worried fear in her eyes.

Kíli leapt forward at the last minute as if to go with her or pull her back. "No!" he said, reaching for Tauriel's arm. He earned the butt-end of a spear shaft, rammed roughly into his chest to push him back.

Fíli could only catch him, keep him being slammed into the wall and further injured. He wrapped his arms around his _nadadith_ as Kíli struggled, flinging insults in the wake of Thranduil's guards as they led their friend away.

They were left alone in silence and even Fíli could feel the gut-deep pain of seeing their only friend and ally taken away.

"Kíli ..._nadadith_," he said in his brother's ear. "Get hold of yourself. I can't do this," his voice had broken and dropped to a whisper. "Without you. They'll bring her back...just like when they took you and when they took me."

Kíli dashed angry tears from his face and cursed in _khuzdul_.

Together they waited. And waited. They exercised—just situps and pullups and muscle exercises using each other as weights and resistance. When they tired of that, they slept sitting up, backs against the wall. The lowly elf who brought their evening rations came by and slid a tray under the steel bars.

And Tauriel still did not return.

After the evening meal, the healer elf who'd been attending them came to the door and was let in by a scowling guard.

Fíli stood, blocking Kíli from any rash action, one hand warning his brother to stay still. Tauriel had told them that the old healer was a venerable elf, well respected and of high standing. She had deferred to him and he had tended their injuries well. He had been kind to them.

"Healer Aredhel," Fíli said, speaking with respect worthy of his mother or Balin. "Tauriel was taken away this morning and not returned. We are very concerned."

Healer Aredhel looked from Fíli to his brother, easily able to see that while Fíli might be "concerned," Kíli was devastated.

"She was called to the King's Judgment," the old elf said quietly. "I'm afraid that King Thranduil has passed sentence upon her."

"Sentence for what?" Kíli pushed forward, his face flushed. Fíli's arm held him back.

But the healer's expression was grave. "Your concern for your elf-friend is commendable," he said, hand on heart. He lowered his eyes and made a slow head nod to Kíli. That small gesture of respect, more than anything else, released the tension in Kíli's taut frame. He went from angry to vulnerable in the blink of an eye. Fíli's arm stayed firm, holding him up now.

"For what?" Kíli's whisper was heart-breaking.

"For negligence in the escape of you and your companions," Healer Aredhel began.

Fíli frowned. Poor lass didn't know about Bilbo. And truth be told, none of them knew exactly how Bilbo had pulled it off.

"And then defying her Lord and King by leaving his lands and involving herself in matters against his specific command. Matters not sanctioned."

Kíli's expression darkened, but he did not speak.

"What is the sentence for such things?" Fíli managed to ask. Next to him, Kíli's eyes were full of unshed tears, as if just realizing he might never see her again.

"One hundred years," Aredhel said. The old healer folded his hands together. "Long term prisoners are sent to the _gwedho-den. _What happens now is that she will be brought back here and allowed to say goodbye...to gather her things."

Fíli was surprised at this—it was more than dwarven jailors would have done, to be honest. He looked around. They really had no belongings—a change of clothes, a towel, a bedroll and blankets. A wooden mug each. Tauriel had been allowed a small book, and she had a basket of soaps and bathing salts.

"They'll let her come back? We can see her?" Kíli asked, his voice unsteady and thick with emotion.

"Yes. I am not sure for how long." Healer Aredhel shook his head in sadness. "Perhaps a few minutes, perhaps as long as an hour or two."

Kíli stared in silence. Fíli didn't know what to say, though his mind was racing. How could they make that time count? Did she know routes of escape that they could use?

"This is a packet of herbs for her," the healer said, handing a small pouch to Fíli . "I am prescribing it to ease her distress. Make certain," he looked Fíli in the eye. "That she brews a cup and drinks it right away." He nodded to the kettle of hot water they were allowed. "You might get the water boiling and have it ready for her."

Fíli nodded, feeling vaguely puzzled. With everything else, why was boiling water so important?

The conversation turned then to their own health. The healer insisted on seeing Fíli's shoulder, testing his range of motion.

Kíli refused all attention, however; crossing his arms and turning his face to the wall.

Fíli just shrugged and looked without apology at the healer. He would not force his brother to submit to anything. Silently, the old elf nodded, apparently in agreement that it was not quite the best time to be expecting cooperation from the younger dwarf.

When the old healer had left, Kíli turned on him. "What are you doing, letting him touch you like that?" he hissed.

Fíli stepped close, glaring at his brother. "One of us had to play along," he whispered. "That old elf took a risk to come here and give us news...or are you so upset that you can't think straight?"

Kíli blinked and seemed to consider this, but he said nothing. He turned and sat against the wall with a huff. "So again, we wait," he muttered.

Fíli let himself take a deep breath. "Yes, brother. We wait. But I have a feeling something is happening. Why else do this to Tauriel now?"

Kíli looked up. "Dain's paying the ransom?"

Fíli walked to the steel bars and looked into the hallway beyond. "Perhaps. If he has the guts to admit we survived."

* * *

Bilbo suddenly set his teacup aside and got to his feet with a sputter. "How," he demanded. "Could Dain have doubted this? He saw Kíli in the flesh!" He flung out an arm toward Kíli, sitting just to the right of the fireplace in Bag End.

"Apparently his council insisted on an attempt to locate Gandalf," Fíli said. "We didn't know it, but most of our Uncle's company had dispersed already. Dwalin was off to the Iron Hills, Oin and Gloin headed to Ered Luin to bring family back. Balin had been sent on a diplomatic mission to Gondor...Dain's people suspected some trick—an elvish enchantment of some kind that had confused Dain's eyes. Gandalf had seemed certain that we were both dead, after all."

Bilbo put his hands on his hips and bounced on his heels, frowning. "That," he admitted. "May have been my fault." He rubbed one hand across his brow and turned around in a circle of frustration. He looked at Fíli. "I told him…" he cringed, his expression bleak. "That I saw you die...that I'd seen Azog stab you and you'd fallen. Gandalf had so much on his plate, and when Dain's lieutenants told us they'd not found your bodies, there was some," Bilbo stopped to swallow. "Concern, you see...that as Thorin's kin...there had been plundering. That there wouldn't ever _be_ anything to recover..."

Fíli flinched. That was an unpleasant thought. "Not an unreasonable speculation," he said. "That was how it went with Thror...they never recovered more than bits and pieces, really."

Kíli nodded and looked away. "Everyone assumed the same with Thrain as well." He shrugged. "There were those who told Thorin that rumors of Thrain's survival were just wishful thinking, that the orcs would have torn him apart."

Tauriel, who'd been silent, looked shocked. "This is horribly grim, my friends."

Bilbo cleared his throat. "I agree. My apologies," he said, nodding to her. "In any case, you're here now. Gandalf will be thrilled to know it."

Fíli's expression softened and he smiled a little. "He already does, Bilbo."

* * *

****A/N Thanks so much** for reading! Please don't be shy—leave us a quick review or PM to let us know that you're reading along. We love to hear from you and it helps us stay focused on getting the chapters out.

I've noticed that tumblr has a tag naming this kind of story a fixit!AU. OMG! So many people want to "fix" BOFA. Totally loving that in fanfic land, we can!

Mahal's blessings to you in this new year. ** Summer (and Blue!)**


	6. Chapter 6 - Goodbyes and Hellos

**Chapter 6 - Goodbyes and Hellos**

* * *

"Gandalf knows?" Bilbo's mouth hung open. "What…._how_? When?" Then his brow furrowed and he eyed his teacup grumpily. "No one tells me anything," he muttered.

Kíli laughed. "Ah, come now, Bilbo. He didn't know either, until just recently; and he doesn't come into the story until later." The young Prince set down his now-empty cup and settled back into the armchair, making himself quite comfortable. Fíli, too, sat; though much more stiffly, his blood doubtless still hot from discussing the betrayal of their kin.

Not for the first time, Kíli wondered about the wisdom of hashing all this out again. They had only just begun to truly heal, after all…

"Yes, the story," Bilbo refocused, looking at each of his guests in turn. "Continue, please."

"Aredhel was as good as his word," Kíli replied. "They did indeed return Tauriel to us for a short time later that day."

* * *

Both Fíli and Kíli startled awake, instantly alert when a guard banged the iron door open and their elf friend was admitted.

"We shall return soon," the guard said sternly, giving Tauriel a long look before slamming the door shut again.

Kíli nearly tripped over his own feet getting to her. His beloved—for so he had begun to think of her in his head, though they'd had no real privacy to discuss it—had gone to her knees almost instantly, hands covering her face in a show of vulnerability that had him pulling her against his chest protectively.

"Tauriel, _azinlaz_," he murmured into her hair. "Aredhel told us of Thranduil's sentence. Are you all right? Did they harm you?"

The elf maid shook her head, but did not pull away or make any attempt to answer Kíli. She was shaking with what he suspected were suppressed sobs, so the dwarf simply held her, running his fingers through her soft hair tenderly and whispering reassurances.

They stayed that way, Fíli hovering just close enough to assist if necessary, but far enough away not to interfere, for a good long while. Eventually, Tauriel sat back on her heels, brushing at wet cheeks before looking up to meet the anxious gazes of the young dwarves.

She sniffled. "I am sorry," was all she managed to get out before she choked on her own grief again. Kíli reached for her hand and entwined their fingers.

"There is naught to be sorry for," Fíli surprised his brother by saying, stepping closer. "You've done nothing wrong; you saved both our lives, Tauriel."

"Yes, and to what end? Now you are prisoners, to be used as pawns in a game of kings," she countered wearily. "I have failed; failed first in my duty as Captain of the Guard, failed to protect both of you from Azog's blade, and now failed to even accomplish anything good by begging for your lives. And I must pay the price-"

Kíli couldn't bear to hear anymore. "Stop!" he growled, a bit more heatedly than he intended. "Tauriel, stop. You cannot...you _mustn't _despair. Not all is lost, not yet."

"One hundred years, Kíli," she interrupted him. "_One hundred years_ I am to be imprisoned. And after I am released, I am still confined to the King's lands for the remainder of my life." She stared past him, the look on her face bleak. "Never to explore other lands, never to leave, never even to walk again amongst the treetops in the starlight…"

"Hush," Kíli took her face between his hands, urging her to look at him. She acquiesced. "That will not be your fate, _azinlaz_. I will not allow it."

"Nor I," Fíli added, stepping closer again and squeezing Tauriel's shoulder. "Now come. Aredhel brought you some tea, he insisted that you drink it at once when you arrived." He held out her cup and the small sachet. "Healer's orders."

Tauriel took the sachet, a look of recognition dawning into one of wonder. "Aredhel gave you this? For me?"

"Mmmm," Fíli affirmed. "Downright odd behavior, if you ask me. He probably could've taken it straight to you. But there you have it."

Kíli watched Tauriel; something funny was going on here. She was looking at the small pouch as though Spring had come early. The despair on her face was fading, to be replaced by hope, lighting her green eyes and bringing color back to her pale cheeks.

"What is it?" he asked. "Tauriel, what does it mean?"

She looked at him, blinking as though she hadn't realized her face was betraying her-which, he reflected, she possibly hadn't. A moment later, she stood and moved to the cell door, looking left and right, obviously checking to be sure of the absence of guards.

Seemingly satisfied they would not be overheard, the elf maid turned back to her friends, beckoning them over.

"See this rune?" She asked, pointing to a swirling symbol stamped on the side of the sachet. Both dwarves nodded. "It is a code," Tauriel managed a small smile now. "'_Edraith'_. It means 'rescue'. The ink will fade when I place the sachet in boiling water."

Kíli blinked, struggling to grasp the concept. An elf, sending a code to Tauriel in a way he was certain not to get caught, implying that he would, what, exactly? Help her escape?

A venerable, old elf would disobey his king thus?

Perhaps more easily than a younger counterpart, Kíli realized. An older elf would be more secure in himself, less worried about consequence and more concerned with what he felt to be right. He imagined the Healer also remembered a time before Thranduil became such an isolationist; his history lessons with Balin had mentioned that the alliance between the elves of the Greenwood, the Humans of Dale and Esgaroth, and the Dwarves of Erebor had once been strong. _Unbreakable_. Elves had once been honorable allies.

It made a sort of sense, then, that one such as Aredhel would help her.

"He means to help you escape," Fíli murmured in awe, looking up and meeting Tauriel's eyes. "We have an ally among Thranduil's ranks, it appears."

Kíli couldn't help but smile.

It was contagious, and before long, all three of them were grinning like idiots.

The guards brought their rations for supper—three servings, which they took to mean she would at least be with them for a little longer—and the companions ate together with all the cheer they could muster.

Hope of escape or no, it was still a wrench knowing they'd likely not see one another again for a long time. Reluctant to sleep with Tauriel's departure nearing, Kíli sat beside her after supper. They said little, but it didn't matter. After Fíli curled up under his blankets several feet away, they still sat, backs against the wall. Kíli reached for Tauriel's hand, and she took it, entwining their fingers and running her thumb over his knuckle as they simply waited.

_Together_.

But his elf-maid became more tense as the hours passed. Kíli could feel it in the way her shoulder rested against his, in the way her fingers held tighter as night passed into morning. He understood—_Mahal_, he was right there with her—but even still, her words, the first spoken in hours, surprised him.

"_Guren garnú nílu ní cil elí amär_," she whispered hoarsely.

Kíli looked up at her, cursing his lack of knowledge of Sindarin. "I don't know what it means," he murmured, grieved. She gave him a small smile.

"I think you do."

He couldn't help it; he kissed her then. It wasn't the stuff of legend, that kiss; a simple meeting of lips, all softness and grief and promise, hope that he tried to impart to her and desperation that she needed him to understand.

He did. He deepened it in response, bringing a hand up to stroke her delicate jaw and swiping at the tears on her cheeks with his thumb. _Mahal_, he could lose himself in this, if only they had _time_…

And then it was over. Tauriel pulled back just a little, gasping a sob, and Kíli drew their foreheads together.

"It will be all right, _azinlaz_," he murmured, punctuating each word with a sweet kiss on her lips, cheeks, nose. "We will be together again soon."

She nodded, and then gave a tiny moan as she looked to the cell door. Kíli knew what it meant without asking; her hearing was much better than his.

They were coming.

* * *

"By the Valar," Bilbo whispered, face pale. "They took her from you?" He looked hastily at Tauriel, seemingly uncomfortable talking about her as if she was not there. "They took you from them?"

All three companions nodded. Bilbo could see the remembered trauma of it in all their eyes—even Fíli's. He could only imagine what it must have been like; waking from such a horrific situation and spending months healing beside someone. To have only your brother and your friend; it made sense they would have grown very close during that time.

And then to have one stolen from you, forcibly taken? He shuddered as he realized; it would've been worse than what he experienced after the Battle of Five Armies, because he'd at least still had his own health, his own freedom, and plenty of friends to ease the way to healing after that ordeal.

His guests—his _friends_—had only had one another. Until they hadn't.

The thought made Bilbo want to kick something—and he was not a hobbit given to fits of aggression. His face must have given him away, because a hand rested gently on his arm, and he looked up to see Fíli's blue eyes watching him, a small smile on the dwarf prince's face.

"It is all right, Bilbo. All is well now."

"Perhaps," he huffed. "But it was not always so. You were wronged, all of you, by those you should have been able to trust. It is a deeper wound than any the orcs inflicted." Forcing himself to breathe deeply, the hobbit settled back in his chair. The kettle and cups needed to be washed and put away, and he really should start thinking on supper soon; but he _needed_ to know the rest of this story.

"What happened then?"

Kíli looked thoughtful. "Things happened fast after they took Tauriel."

* * *

The younger of Dis' sons awoke abruptly at the slamming of their cell door. He sat up quickly, abashed that the guards should see him curled around Fíli as he was—as he had spent the last few nights, since Tauriel's forced departure. Kíli knew he should be ashamed of himself for being so very vulnerable, but the one time he'd tried to apologize to Fíli and pull himself together, his _nadad _had shushed him and squeezed him tighter.

He had quieted, and they'd spoken no more about it. Kíli wondered if perhaps Fíli found as much comfort in the gesture as he did, if Thorin would be ashamed at how codependent the two had become since the battle.

But Thorin was no longer here, and he supposed if anyone had a right, they had.

But now the guards had barged in on their sleep, shattering whatever small measure of privacy Kíli felt they'd possessed, and they hadn't come with food or news or even orders.

They had come with hoods.

"F-Fee…" Kíli stammered, sitting up and making to stand. Beside him, Fíli was instantly awake, growling as he tossed the covers aside.

The guards said nothing, simply wrestled the exhausted dwarves into hoods and ropes. Though weaponless and blind, Kíli felt his curled fists land several good blows, heard the elves' grunts of pain, and he took some comfort in it.

"Kíli!" he heard his brother shout, and he reached toward the sound. It was his turn to grunt when something unyielding (a staff, perhaps?) smacked his arm away, and he cradled it close to his chest.

"I'm here, Fíli!" he answered.

"Silence!" A voice ordered as he was forced forward, but he balked and aimed a kick in that direction. His bare heel hit leather, hard, and he registered a Sindarin curse he'd heard Tauriel use before agony exploded in the back of his head and all went dark.

He woke to a jarring pain in his bad leg, cried out before he could stop himself. The world was dark—he still wore the hood—and his hands were bound behind him, but someone was shouting orders and he was lying on something hard.

"You spineless cowards!" Fíli was bellowing nearby. Kíli moaned and curled in on himself—_Mahal_, his head ached—cursing his reckless streak. "Kíli?" His brother's voice was close, panicky. "I'm here," he groaned, pulling himself toward Fili as well as he could with his hands behind his back. The dwarves maneuvered themselves so they sat, shoulders touching.

"Where are we?" Kíli asked as whatever cell they were in seemed to shift and begin moving forward.

"Some kind of palanquin," his brother growled. "Prisoner transport, I'd guess."

"Transport where?" Kíli wondered aloud. Had Dain agreed to the terms? Were they to be freed? Or had he refused the deal and they were being taken somewhere to be more permanently imprisoned?

What of Tauriel?

Kíli's chest positively _ached_ at the thought of her, alone in a cell, bereft of even the comfort of starlight for any amount of time, much less _one hundred years_. An entire century, left to languish in a stone prison until that beautiful fiery spirit dwindled to nothing and her skin forgot the warmth of the sun.

Death would've been kinder.

His only comfort was Aredhel. Surely the old elf would not allow it to come to that. But even if he managed to help her escape, would Kíli ever see her again? How would he know she'd been freed? How would he find her?

"I am here, Kíli," he heard his brother murmur, and it was only then he realized he was trembling.

"I know," he managed, clenching his teeth to keep them from chattering. He felt cold, weak, and frighteningly shaky. Thorin had warned them of this, they had trained for it: when the body had been through enough trauma, it sometimes began to shut down to conserve energy, to help preserve life. Such a response could be fatal if it came at the wrong time.

Like now.

Beside him, Fíli began to hum softly, a tune their mother had used often to calm them after nightmares. Kíli heard it as if it came from far away, but he latched onto it and forced himself through the breathing exercises they'd been taught as dwarflings.

"That's it, Kíli," he heard Fíli murmur between verses. "Come back to me, _nadadith_. We're together, it's all right."

He began to hum too, and mercifully, the guards bearing the palanquin said nothing.

The journey seemed to take hours, but Kíli could hear birds and sunlight was making its way through his hood when the wood box was set upon the ground. Wind met his skin moments later, and hands closed around his forearms, pulling him forward.

Panic threatened again when he could no longer sense Fíli beside him, but he swallowed it and stumbled onto numb feet. The guards unbound him and he didn't wait for them to remove the hood, ripping it off and breathing deeply of the morning mountain air.

Kíli's eyes widened.

Fíli was nearby, as stunned as he, and they were standing on grey stone ruins, the Lonely Mountain before them. He felt the blood drain from his face as he recognized precisely where he was standing.

_Ravenhill_.

Thranduil had returned them to exactly where he found them, where he had saved their lives for his own gain, where it had all started.

The elven guards hoisted the palanquin up onto their shoulders again, and the ranking guard looked back, his green eyes unreadable.

"You are free," was all he said, then they were gone.

Kíli found himself incapable of either speech or movement, even more so when his gaze landed on the marble pillar at the foot of Ravenhill. He seized Fíli's sleeve and gestured to it, mute. Fíli's eyes grew wide, and his already-pallid skin whitened further.

Without a word, both dwarves ran down the steep, rugged hill as fast as they could. It was a run that would, once upon a time, have not even phased Kíli; but despite the training they'd done in Thranduil's dungeon, by the time they reached the pillar on the edge of the small lake, he was panting harshly and his leg was in agony.

Fíli reached out and ran his fingers over the Khuzdul runes that adorned the white marble.

_Here fell Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror; and his sister's sons, Fíli and Kíli, Sons of Dis._

Kíli took a deep breath, the loss of his Uncle slamming into him like a pack of wargs. He was shocked to hear a sniff from next to him; he turned to see Fíli, head bowed as he leaned against the pillar, his fingers nestled into the grooves that made up Thorin's name.

He was sobbing.

It was the first time Kíli had seen Fíli cry since they awoke in Thranduil's dungeons, _Mahal_, _months_ ago now.

"Oh, _nadad_," he murmured, drawing his brother close as they mourned anew their loss.

The Sons of Dis stood there for longer than either of them realized, before nearby footsteps brought them back to the present, followed closely by a shout of alarm they recognized. Kíli looked up and his eyes went wide.

A young dwarf stood a few yards away, a leather-bound book and quill in his hand, mouth hanging slack in absolute shock. Kíli shifted so Fíli was behind him, shielding him and protecting his dignity while he composed himself. Kíli felt his lips curl up in a smile.

"Hello, Ori," he said.

* * *

"_Guren garnú nílu ní cil elí amär_,"—Sindarin, "My heart is yours until the remaking of the world."

* * *

**A/N:** Happy Tuesday, everyone! There were definitely tears as this chapter was being written, so I hope it touched you all as much as it did us. **Thanks** once again for reading, and don't forget to drop us a review or PM to let us know what you think!

Also remember to check out our individual fics at **summerald **and **BlueRiverSteel **on this site. They're both in really exciting places, and only getting better as we go!

Cheers!

**Blue (and Summer!)**


	7. Chapter 7 - Under the Mountain

**Chapter 7 - Under the Mountain**

"That's...I'm speechless." Bilbo's eyes were wide and shocked. "Utterly, completely speechless."

"Except for those six words," Fíli said with a lopsided grin, watching their friend try to digest the story they'd been telling.

Bilbo stared at him, uncomprehending.

"Never mind," Fíli shook his head. "I understand your point." He stood, his teacup in hand. "Shall I help you clear these? Could you use a break?"

"What?" Bilbo shook his head a bit. "No," he said quickly. "No, no. I'd…" he angled an eye at Fíli, obviously recalling the last time the lads had helped with his dishes. "I'd much prefer to let my guests relax here by the fire." He stood, making stay-put motions while collecting up the cups, saucers and empty sandwich plates before trotting off. "I have a beef pie in the oven...lots of sausages I can fry up…" They heard his voice echo down the hallway.

Tauriel stood, peering closely at small portraits and hand-bound books on Bilbo's shelves, hunching a bit to keep from bumping her head. Beef pie and sausages were not quite her usual fare, Fili realized, glancing at his brother.

"What about dandelion greens?" Kíli called after him, looking at Tauriel apologetically.

"Or cabbages...carrots, that sort of thing?" Fíli added.

Bilbo popped his head around the corner. "Excuse me?" He understood the care and feeding of dwarves well enough to be shocked at the mention of _greens_.

"For Tauriel," Kíli widened his eyes at Bilbo, a bit surprised that the hobbit would forget a guest.

Bilbo smacked his head. "Of course, of course. My apologies, dear lady." He shook his head as if running through the inventory of his pantry in his mind. "I have good walnuts and pears right now...with a little wine vinegar and greens perhaps…? Blue cheese?"

Tauriel's eyebrows shot up. "That sounds amazing, actually. Yes, please!" She smiled at him, then frowned. "But, blue cheese? I didn't know it came in colors…"

Bilbo shook his head. "It's not blue, exactly," he rolled a hand in an apologetic gesture and then held up one finger. "I'll put it on the side." And with that he was off.

"Do you really have to tell him everything about the next part?" Kíli asked. "I think we'll just upset him."

"I think we've already upset him," Fíli replied, looking in the direction of Bilbo's kitchen. "I'm not fooled...are you?"

Kíli shook his head. Leaving Tauriel to the book she'd pulled off Bilbo's shelf, both brothers made their way to Bilbo's sunny kitchen, finding him leaning over the sink.

"Bilbo?" Fíli asked.

Bilbo sniffed, turning halfway toward them with eyes red and tears on his face. "It's the onion," he said, tilting his head toward a chopped onion on the sideboard.

"No it's not," Kíli murmured, his hand reaching gently for Bilbo's shoulder. Fíli took the washrag from Bilbo's hand and dropped it in the sink, pulling the shaky hobbit into his arms for a full hug.

"It's all right, Bilbo. We miss him, too," Fíli murmured.

Bilbo let out a gasping sob. "Just...a _memorial_...right there...that place…!" Bilbo seemed to be holding his breath.

"Just breathe, Bilbo," Fíli smiled sadly.

Bilbo nodded, huffing shakily and wiping his eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said, apparently chagrined at being found sobbing in his kitchen. "I feel like I should go see it. Lay an oak leaf at its feet…"

"No, Bilbo," Kíli said in a quiet, deep voice, leaning against the distraught hobbit's back. "It's better that you honor him here."

Fíli nodded. "Let us help you with dinner. Ours and yours," he said. "And we'll tell you the rest."

Kíli stepped back, patting Bilbo between the shoulder blades. "You hear the whole of it and you'll know why. Besides, the Arkenstone may lie on Thorin's tomb deep under the Mountain," he grinned.

"But we took something more important back to its rightful home." Fíli smiled. That was the real tale in all this and Bilbo deserved to know.

Bilbo blinked back tears. "More important?"

"Dinner first," Kíli said, grabbing a hot pad and making to peek inside the oven.

Bilbo made an exasperated sound and grabbed a hand towel, snapping the younger dwarf on his backside. "Not until it's _ready_," he said pointedly.

It was not long, however, before dinner was served, enjoyed, cleaned up (without any plates being tossed or broken) with no more than pleasant chatter about the doings of the Shire, Bilbo's oak tree sapling, and a promise to go for a walk on the morrow to check on it. Afterwards, the three travelers joined Bilbo outside his front door for an evening smoke.

At least the brothers smoked with him, sitting in tilt-back chairs and lighting up with Bilbo, who sat in his favorite garden bench fashioned from unmilled tree branches.

Tauriel rather pointedly sat upwind of them, not entirely approving of pipeweed. Bilbo had supplied her with a freshly opened bottle of Shire wine, which she tasted and approved, and she unabashedly stretched herself out on the grass, her head practically in his nasturtiums. The yellow and orange blossoms framed her laughing face as she watched confused hummingbirds approach, pause, and fly off chirping their puzzlement.

Kíli watched her, a happy smile on his face.

"Smitten," Bilbo observed.

Fíli laughed. Kíli and Tauriel were so busy looking at each other that they'd missed Bilbo's comment.

"What is this, exactly?" Bilbo asked Fíli quietly, looking at the dwarf and the elf.

Fíli smiled. "Friends."

"Friends?" Bilbo looked skeptical. "Are you sure there aren't...what would you call them? Dwelflings? On the way?"

Fíli laughed out loud. "You know, there's never been a half dwarf. Half-elvens, yes." He drew on his pipe and let the smoke out in a long, slow breath. "The dwarves are Aüle's folk." He shook his head. "We come from the earth. Elves and men and hobbits...you are children of Illuvatar."

"Huh," Bilbo said, glancing at the lovebirds. "I'm not sure anyone told these two."

Fíli smiled. "Let it be, Bilbo. Galadriel blessed their love...that's good enough for me." He shook his head. "Besides, she can't return to Thranduil's realm any more than we can return to Erebor."

Bilbo frowned, started to object, then shook his head. "Explain that."

Fíli nodded and took up the story again.

* * *

Ori stared, mouth open, unable to form words. Fíli blinked, leaning against the pillar and struggling to rise above his grief.

"It's me, Kíli!" his brother was saying.

"Are you ghosts?" Ori whispered. "I'm seeing ghosts…"

Fíli shook his head and dashed tears from his face and stepped from behind Kíli. "No," he said firmly. "We're not ghosts."

Ori still stared, looking from one brother to the other.

"Dain didn't tell anyone, did he?" Kíli demanded.

Ori's eyes came up in alarm. "Tell what?"

"That we were prisoners in the Elvenking's dungeon."

Fíli saw the realization dawning on Ori's shocked face. "The elves had you?"

"Yes. Holding us for ransom."

"That necklace…" Ori looked like a lad who'd just added up a complicated equation. "That's what was in the lockbox. It was there yesterday," Ori pointed up the slope to the place where the brothers had been dumped from the palanquin. "Now it's not."

Fíli quickly realized the elves had found their prize, verified its authenticity, and booted them out on their backsides before making themselves scarce.

Ori's eyebrows went up. "And that's why!"

"Why what?" Kíli 's anger was barely in check.

"Why no one found our bodies," Fíli supplied. He wiped his eyes and pushed loose hair off his forehead.

Ori was nodding. Kíli reached out then, wincing with regret and pulling Ori into a hug. Fíli joined him, embracing their friend (cousin, if you believed the rumors…) after so many months apart.

Ori hugged back, one arm still clutching his book and quill, saying, "Oh, Mahal...oh, _Mahal_," over and over.

"Ori," Fíli managed, his eyes wide. "Tell me the truth...they didn't really leave him out here…?" he gestured to the pillar.

Ori looked startled, then shook his head. "No! Mahal, no." He turned to point back toward the Gate of Erebor, still fortified and from the looks of things, well-guarded. "There's a tomb. In the Halls of Kings…"

"Take us," Kíli demanded.

Ori looked frightened and he clutched his book and quill like shields. "It's not allowed," he whispered. "No one's allowed to go down there."

Fíli felt a burning anger flare in his heart at that. "Take us to Dwalin, then. Our cousin wouldn't stand for…"

But Ori was shaking his head. "Dwalin's not here. He went to the Iron Hills with one of the returning battalions…"

"Balin, then." Kíli said. "He'll know…"

But Ori was shaking his head again. "He was sent to Minas Tirith. A diplomatic mission."

Fíli stared. "Oín and Gloín?"

"Headed back to the Blue Mountains. Gimli and his mother are still there. And Oín doesn't like Dain…"

"I don't think I like him, either," Fíli declared.

Ori shook his head again. "Don't say it too loud," he glanced over his shoulder. "You'll bring a reprimand."

"A _what_?" Kíli looked stunned.

"We owe Dain our allegiance and respect, and it's not proper to step above your station."

"You're part of the Company," Fíli said. "One thirteenth of all this is yours."

Ori's expression fell. "That's not how it turned out," he murmured. "It belongs to Dain, King under the Mountain. We're allowed to stay, but not as part of the Rank and File."

Fíli stared.

In the distance, somewhere near the gate, a great bell rang twice.

Ori turned, panic on his face. "That's the second bell," he said, stashing his quill inside his coat. "I'm due for cleaning duty at the half. I've got to go…" He looked back at Fíli and Kíli . "I'll sneak you inside if that's what you want, but we'll have to be quick."

Kíli glowered. "Sneak?"

Fíli didn't understand. "We're Thorin's heirs. Why would we sneak…?"

Ori made an exasperated face at them. "Please. Come inside quietly. It's better—believe me."

The brothers stared. Kíli stood with fists clenched and brows lowered in angry consternation as he looked at Fíli.

Fíli narrowed his eyes. "I'm beginning to smell some kind of rat, brother."

"Please," Ori said, his voice quiet and worried. "Let me take you to Bofur…just…don't attract attention."

* * *

Bilbo was sitting with his pipe in his hand, the glower on his face nearly equal to Kíli's darkest look. "Thorin," he said firmly. "Would have someone's head. What in Eru's Hell was that about?"

"We found out soon enough," Fíli said. "The place was a model of military efficiency, I'll give it that."

Kíli was looking at them now, a disgusted frown on his face. "I call it Dain's version of the gold sickness," he said, shaking his head. "Obsessed with protecting his right to rule...he controlled everything down to the exact time of day that poor Ori was allowed to sweep donkey dung out of the main hall."

Bilbo screwed up his face to object. "Ori's not a janitor," he sputtered.

"No," Fíli said. "But he was declared '_unfit for service'_ in Dain's battalions."

"As were we," Kíli muttered.

"Wha…?"

Fíli nodded. "All we got in answer to our written inquiry was a note penned by some scribe. _To the prisoners recently released from the Woodland Realm: you are assigned to mine tailings duty and quarters with the fifth class support crew."_

"Not even second class?" Bilbo asked, deadpan. "I would have thought that, at least."

Fíli glanced at him, then realized the hobbit was being sarcastic.

"Nah. Definitely fifth class. Would have been sixth or seventh if Dain could count that far."

"At least we built back our strength," Kíli said.

Tauriel looked at him with her feelings apparent. "You are trained warriors. It was an insult, making you carry rock when they wouldn't let you fight."

Fíli didn't comment. He wasn't sure how much about their time in Erebor Bilbo needed to hear.

"On one hand, Dain ignored us, so the Iron Hills commanders ignored us," he said.

"Which we came to recognize as a good thing," Kíli acknowledged. "They didn't pay attention to us at all, really. Not even when Bofur snuck us down to the Hall of Kings to visit Thorin's tomb."

"We did it in the dead of night, mind you," Fíli added.

"Dust. I couldn't believe the dust," Kíli huffed.

Bilbo narrowed his eyes. "Dust?"

Fíli sighed. "On our uncle's tomb. Plain stone box. They didn't bother to post an honor guard, burn a flame of remembrance, or even run a dust cloth over the stone once a week."

"We brushed away the dirt with our hands."

Fíli nodded, recalling that solemn duty. Kíli had swept one hand across the dirt, glowering in disgust and grief. And then they'd both endeavored to clean the stone, stripping off vests to use as dustcloths, sweeping it clean and polishing the stone.

_Thorin…_

Bilbo was staring at him, mouth open. Fíli wondered if the fellow would burst in a fit of pique…but the poor hobbit just seemed stunned. Tears welled in his eyes.

Fíli reached across the space between them and patted Bilbo's knee. "Believe me, we were far more angry then than we are now."

Bilbo nodded and looked away. After a moment his hand patted Fíli's.

"What made you leave?" he asked finally. "I'm not sure I can hear all the details of your stay. But you obviously left. Tell me that."

Fíli realized that the hobbit had reached the limit of what he could bear about the new reality inside Erebor.

"The ruby," he said.

Bilbo's expression froze and he looked thoughtful. "The one Thorin gave you?"

"Threw at my head, you mean? That one?"

Bilbo nodded.

"Turns out he'd found something that rightfully belonged to our mother," Fíli said. He smiled at Bilbo, trying to reassure him that they were all right now.

Bilbo's eyebrows shot up. "Your mother? Wasn't she just a small child when the dragon…?"

"Yes," Fíli said. "She was. About ten years old, I think. Very young."

"And this thing was hers?"

Fíli smiled. "Hers by right."

* * *

One week after they'd managed to visit Thorin's tomb, Fíli lay on his dormitory bunk next to his brother's, staring dully at the stone ceiling, hands behind his head.

He'd spent enough years as a trainee in the Blue Mountains not to object sleeping in a dorm. But Erebor was Thorin's. He had broken the siege, he had routed the dragon…he had taken back the Mountain. By rights, they should have private rooms in the royal quarters. By rights, they should be given positions of authority or at least been rank on the night watch...allowed to carry swords.

He understood—barely understood—the legal reasoning behind Dain's ascension to the throne.

He was a crowned Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, descendant of Durin in an unbroken male line.

Thorin had been an un-seated Prince who'd never been confirmed. He and Kíli were considered second-rate descendants through a female line.

Unacceptable in the eyes of the Seven.

So Cousin Dain had been given sole right to occupy the place with several thousand Iron Hills warriors. His hold was tight, and Fíli stewed constantly about possible ways to oust the bastard.

Bofur counseled patience. "Wait for Balin. He'll come back—he told me as much."

So Fíli waited…but he was beginning to understand Dain's tactics. Balin would be delayed; he would have trouble winning the concessions Dain wanted from the men of Gondor, and then odds were he'd find himself beset by fell weather and bad luck in the wilds.

In the meantime, Fíli had not gotten anywhere near Thorin's cousin. He was assigned to the Fifth Class Support Crew and as such, not allowed above the Gate level or anywhere near Erebor's ruler.

The sound of a door opening broke the slow simmer in his head. It was Kíli, dragging himself in after ten hours of hauling rock. He hung his dusty work coat on a hook and slumped to his bunk in a dejected heap.

"Kíli …" Fíli rose to see his brother sitting, head in hands. He joined him on the edge of his bunk, leaning against Kíli's back in an attempt to console him.

Kíli didn't even look up. "What's the point?" he whispered. "All we did was escape one prison for another." Their eyes had met then—there was no denying the truth of that statement, and Fíli knew his brother's thoughts constantly turned back toward the Woodland Realm and the unknown fate of the friend who had saved their lives.

"The elves were kinder, to be honest," Fíli added. They appreciated that hard work had helped them regain lost strength and forced them back into fighting trim, but there were better ways to accomplish that.

They looked up at the sound of shuffling feet.

It was Ori and his brother Nori, coming towards them with a rolled-up bundle.

"Hello, Fíli …Kíli ," Ori nodded to them, eyes solemn and sad.

"Cheer up, lads," Nori said quietly. "Took me a bit to find the right time for it, but I finally nicked your things back from Arsefoot's goon-faced guards."

"Shhh," Ori hushed his brother, looking around to see who might've heard the impolite names.

"I really don't care, Ori." He dumped the bundle into Fíli's lap and untied a string.

"Is this…?" Fíli unfolded the bundle enough to recognize the sleeve of a woolen tunic. "From Laketown?"

"Yeah, that's the thing you were wearing when you made it up here after the dragon." Nori looked left and right, checking again for anyone who would see them and then he knelt at Fíli's knee, his hands busy unwrapping the rough cloth. "But it's the thing in the pocket here that you need to see," he said, digging into the folds until he came up with something. He quickly shoved it into Fíli's hand and then stood. He nodded once, then turned to stride away.

"Anyone asks, some random dwarf left that here. No one you know." And then he was gone.

Ori's eyes were actually twinkling. "Balin told me that Thorin gave that to you," he whispered. "When we all thought you were dead, he asked us to look for your things…that you had something that needed to be sent back to Ered Luin."

Fíli held up a faceted ruby roughly the size of a baby's fist. "This?"

Ori covered Fíli's hands with his. "Yes!" Ori actually laughed. "Tuck it away, you idiot. Hurry!"

Fíli slid it into his pocket, Kíli watching as if not quite sure what he'd seen.

"That's _The Heart of Durin_," Ori whispered, smiling with a happiness Fíli'd not seen on anyone's face since they'd arrived weeks before.

Kíli sat up. "Are you sure?" His voice was low.

"Balin said yes," Ori nodded. "It belongs to your mother," he said. Then he stood and grinned, held his finger to his lips, and backed away with a wink. Moments later, he was off, no doubt heading for his next cleaning station before he earned a demerit for tardiness.

Fíli put one hand over the pocket where he'd stashed the large stone. "Do you know what this means?" he murmured to his brother.

Kíli was pulling his better boots out from under his bunk. "It means we have a very good reason to get the hell out of here," he hissed.

Fíli had nodded, feeling suddenly full of life and purpose as he'd not felt since things had gone dark that day on Ravenhill.

* * *

"So, I'm right in thinking that stone is important?" Bilbo was squinting at him.

"It is indeed," Fíli answered. "Thorin and our mother were the children of Thrain of the line of Durin…but they were also the children of our grandmother Ró, of the line of Nái."

Bilbo perked up. Hobbits quite liked family histories and Bilbo especially cherished Thorin's.

"In truth," Fíli went on. "Nái's line is as rich in our history as Durin's because she was Durin's only daughter. And legend tells us that the ruby was hers—it was recut at some point, ages back...and named _The Heart of Durin_. Thorin found it in Smaug's pile…he gave it to me trusting I would make sure it was put into the hands of my mother."

"But dwarven things like that…they aren't just jewels." Bilbo was obviously waiting for more.

"That's right._ The Heart of Durin_ carries a powerful gift. It bestows upon Nái's heir not only the right to rule in her own name, but for the line of succession to pass from her to her female descendants."

Bilbo blinked. "In Dwarf law? This is honored in the Seven Kingdoms?"

"Yes," Fíli said. "It's the only exception in all dwarfdom. It's not considered one of the seven kingdoms because the Heir of Nái is not a King. It's a ladies' thing and considered hidden knowledge. In any case, The Stone and The Right were thought to be long lost, even though Thrain married Ró, heir to the line of Nái."

"So your mother, with that stone, is the one with the real right to rule Erebor." Bilbo looked as though he had solved a complex riddle.

"Our mother," Fíli clarified. "Could rule anything she wanted. But she never wanted Erebor…that was Thorin's dream. Never hers."

"So, what…?" Bilbo began, then he stopped himself and held up a hand. "No, don't tell me. The story's getting out of order. So you took the ruby and left with the goal of taking it to your mother as Thorin intended."

Fíli nodded.

Bilbo took a long draw on his pipe, obviously thinking hard as he looked from Fíli to Kíli, and then at Tauriel. "And now, since _you_ are obviously here," he said to Tauriel. "How did you escape your prison and find your way back to the lads?"

* * *

****A/N Thanks so much** for reading! Please don't be shy—leave us a quick review or PM to let us know that you're reading along. We love to hear from you and it helps us stay focused on getting the chapters out.

Mahal's blessings to you, wherever you are! ** Summerandblue** is a writing team. You can find my stories under **Summerald** and Blue's under **BlueRiverSteel**. Check them out if you haven't already!

** Summer (and Blue!)**


	8. Chapter 8 - Under the Stars

**Chapter 8 – Under the Stars**

* * *

Tauriel sat up, folding her long legs beneath her and smiling. Bilbo was shocked at the difference in her demeanor since they'd arrived—she seemed more carefree, happier, more relaxed than he'd ever seen her. It suited her, he decided.

Of course, he remembered that the last time he had seen her, it had hardly been the proper time for lying in gardens and smiling over past adventures.

"Oh, it was quite the impressive feat," she said in answer to his question, her tone light—and maybe a little teasing? Bilbo couldn't help but smile at it.

"If you had any part of it, my lady," he said smoothly, "I am certain that is a true account."

Fíli laughed aloud while Kíli adopted an air of mock jealousy. "All right, Master Hobbit," he growled, moving to sit on the grass beside the elf, who had an eyebrow cocked in amusement. "Stop your flirting and let the lady speak."

Tauriel laughed then, the sound musical in a way Bilbo hadn't quite gotten used to, and he felt a surge of joy seeing his friends happily lounging in his garden.

He was certain if Thorin could see them like this, he would wear one of those quiet smiles Bilbo had only had the privilege of seeing a few times. The one he reserved for his nephews, full of fondness and memory and pride.

Though, the hobbit reflected with a smile of his own, Thorin may have balked at the presence of the elven archer in whom Kíli had found a perfect complement to his own heart. He almost laughed at the mental image, but Tauriel was speaking now.

"It was really all Aredhel's doing, truly." She looked off into the distance, as though it would make it easier to tell the tale. "When Thranduil spoke of one hundred years in isolation, he certainly meant it."

Kíli shifted almost imperceptibly closer.

"I had no interaction with anyone save the guards who brought my meals," the former Captain continued. "And even they would simply shove the food into the cell and leave. I had a single, barred, tiny window to allow daylight in, but no other source of illumination. I was given a blanket and soaps, had a small natural bathing pool, and was checked by a Healer once in a while to ensure I was healthy."

"Is that how Aredhel got you out, then?" Bilbo asked, wide-eyed.

Tauriel smiled thinly. "No. He was not my Healer, they wouldn't let him near me. At least, not until I nearly died."

Bilbo nearly came out of his seat in indignation, stayed only by Fíli's hand on his arm. The golden-haired dwarf gave him a sympathetic smile and motioned to the elleth, as if to say_, just wait. Just listen_.

* * *

Tauriel eyes snapped open with a gasp, and she sat up abruptly, wincing when a wave of dizziness threatened to send her back into the black oblivion from which she had just escaped.

"Slowly, _íell_," a gentle voice encouraged her softly. "And quiet, we mustn't be heard."

"What?" she mumbled, confused and dizzy and _oh Valar she was going to—_

She scrambled to her knees and threw up quietly. Firm hands rubbed her shoulder blades and the gentle voice spoke to her still.

"It is to be expected, after such a draught. Calm yourself, Tauriel…"

But five hundred years of warrior training was not so easily forgotten, and the red-haired elleth was on her feet scant seconds later, stumbling backward as she tried to remember the sensation of her legs beneath her, hands raised in a defensive position.

"_Dar!_" she said through gritted teeth. Valar, her head _hurt_. "_Nuith anglenna, hui!_" The Sindarin rolled off her tongue almost without her realizing it, before she blinked and what she was seeing really registered.

Aredhel stood before her, mostly obscured by the shadows of the pillared hall in which they stood. His hands were held before him in an expression of surrender, and he held her eyes, willing her with his own demeanor to remain calm.

"It is me," he said softly. "I am here to help you. You must remain _quiet_, Tauriel, or we shall be caught."

_Aredhel. I am safe._

She lowered her hands and took a deep breath. "Master Aredhel." Suddenly she remembered the last few moments, and blushed in the low light. "I am sorry for…" she motioned vaguely to the pile of sick. "All of that."

Aredhel smiled and came to her, holding a small vial. "It is a common thing for healers to deal with," he answered. "Here, drink this. It will ease the headache."

"What is it?" she popped the seal on the small glass container and drank the clear contents in one gulp. It burned a bit going down, but her head felt better almost instantly and the nasty taste in her mouth from being sick was even lessened considerably.

"My own blend of peppermint, athelas, and aloe," Aredhel smiled, pulling her by the arm. "It will help counteract the poison."

Tauriel couldn't help it, she pulled up short. "Poison?"

The Healer pulled her along, sending her a truly wicked smile. "Yes of course. Had you not noticed you were feeling poorly in that cell over the past weeks?"

"Of-of course," she began walking again, her steps uncertain. "I thought…I thought it was to be expected. That I would falter and fade to nothing during that sentence…" She remembered it; the intense headaches, the mind-numbing exhaustion, the bone-deep sense of apathy. She had thought she was fading, and had counted it a mercy from the Valar themselves; for Fíli and Kíli had been sent back to Erebor and would have long since forgotten her, and Aredhel could not reach her. To have her spirit taken to the Undying Lands was better than anything else Arda had to offer her.

And so she had not fought it.

Aredhel shook his head, then peered around the pillar and pulled her across the hall to a wooden door. He produced a key from his robe and unlocked it as quietly as possible—though it creaked and squealed as if rarely used—then pushed open the door, ushering her through. "No," he whispered. "Your spirit is far too strong to fade entirely even after one hundred years of isolation—it is why Thranduil gave such a sentence, he knew you were capable of handling it—much less after five weeks."

"Then who poisoned me? And…why?" she asked, confused.

"I did, young one," Aredhel answered patiently, leading her through a dark tunnel lit only by the small torch he had taken from the pillared hall. "And quite a feat it was, too, getting that _saew_ into your food, in very particular doses, so as not to kill you outright, and at the correct time for you to be found by a Healer before it was too late to save you. As to why, well, I should think it obvious."

_To save me._

"Healer Aredhel," Tauriel whispered, squeezing his arm. He turned back to her. She twisted her hand over her heart formally, overwhelmed. "Thank you."

He nodded once, a gesture of respect, and pulled her forward. "Do not thank me prematurely," he said tightly. "We've yet to escape Thranduil's halls. They will know I did not rush you to the Healing Wards soon; we must make haste."

"Where are we?"

"These tunnels were hewn during the excavation of this mountain," Aredhel answered. "Thranduil assumes them empty and has never used them. He will not expect an escape this way. However, our way out is through several tunnels, not one, and they will require us to cross some guarded paths. I have memorized the guard schedules at each one to give us the highest chance of success, but we must be quick and careful."

Tauriel absorbed his words instantly, her training standing her in good stead. All business now, she shook back her unkempt hair and braided it to keep it out of the way.

* * *

The elleth startled a bit as Bilbo let out a small cheer, standing from his seat and pacing with his hands clenched. Her green eyes followed him, and he did feel a little embarrassed for such an outburst, but he couldn't help it.

"I should very much like to meet this venerable elf Healer," he declared, smiling so hard it was nearly painful. "So he got you out?"

"Aye," Tauriel laughed. "It was a close thing a couple of times, but we did eventually leave Thranduil's Halls. He had been in contact with these two—" she motioned to the dwarf brothers, "—so we met them north of elven lands and followed the Forest River out of the Mirkwood to the west."

Bilbo turned to the lads. He didn't even have to ask any questions before Kíli took up the tale. "We thought—we _hoped_—Aredhel planned to spring Tauriel, we just didn't know how or when—"

"—We had no way of contacting him," Fíli interjected.

"—So we sent a raven to scout Thranduil's halls," Kíli finished. "A pretty young hen named Ryxi. She stayed in the shadows and just watched, came back and told us Tauriel was still imprisoned and that an older elf was watching her very carefully. We suspected it was the Healer, of course; Fíli wrote him a heavily coded note and had her carry it. Aredhel remembered Erebor's golden age, so he was no stranger to the use of a raven as a messenger."

Bilbo laughed with delight. "A raven! How wonderful!"

"Indeed," Kíli grinned. "And as soon as they were out, Ryxi led them our direction."

* * *

Kíli huffed as he paced, unable to calm himself. He knew his brother, sitting against a tree and sharpening one of his countless knives, was glaring at him, still sore about their earlier fight.

"_We've sent Ryxi in there twice already, Kíli, this is the last time." Fíli crossed his arms and adopted what Kíli had always secretly called his Bighead Brother Glare. "If she hasn't found anything more worthwhile than the fact that Tauriel is still locked up, we have to go."_

_Kíli wanted to stomp his foot. "I won't leave without her."_

_Fíli threw his hands up. "Honestly, Kíli, use your head, will you?! The Heart of Durin needs to be returned to Mother; it was Thorin's wish." Fíli had glared at him. "We may have lost Erebor—but this gives her Ered Luin. Do you understand?" He had let his breath out in frustration. "What do you think will happen if we try to spring Tauriel and get ourselves caught? I promise you," he held Kíli's gaze with his own. "Thranduil will not let us go again!"_

"_Then we'll escape on our own, we've done it before." Kíli set his chin stubbornly, but even he knew Fíli had a point. _

"_We didn't do it at all, Bilbo did!"_

"_It's worth the chance, Fíli! I won't abandon her!"_

_His older brother was quiet, expression falling from anger and frustration to…betrayal? _

"_But you'd abandon Mother?"_

Luckily, Ryxi had flapped into the clearing where they waited a moment later, before Kíli had finished processing the question, with news that she'd located Aredhel and he seemed to understand she was a messenger. Fíli had penned the note and sent her off again, then hunkered down by the tree, back to his brother.

Kíli knew he was going to have to talk to him at some point, but decided it was best to let Fíli have his temper for a while first. The older Durin was unlikely to listen to him in such a mood.

So the lads had waited overnight, talking to Ryxi as she came and went, the otherwise silent clearing tense. Kíli wasn't afraid to admit he was worried. There were so many things that could go wrong—what if Aredhel double crossed them? What if he couldn't get Tauriel out? What if they both were caught trying to escape?

Thranduil would have no mercy. Her punishment would be twice as severe if he caught her.

Kíli growled in frustration as he looked around again, searching for any sign of Ryxi or the two elves.

"You're going to hurt yourself, _nadadith_," Fíli said, with an air of long-suffering.

Kíli resisted the urge to snap at him, and instead sat—_flopped_, was probably a more accurate description—on the ground beside his brother. Fíli didn't smile or even look at him; but he also didn't move away, which the younger took as a good sign.

"Fee, I—" Kíli started to say, but he was interrupted by the call of the barely-grown hen they'd sent to Aredhel.

"Many-Legs! Many-Legs!" she screamed as she crash-landed on Kíli's arm. He cradled her close to prevent her falling, trying to calm the obviously agitated bird.

"Good girl," he cooed. "That's a good lassie. Tell me again, Ryxi. What is wrong?"

The hen bobbed her head, upset. "Tall ones stopped by Many-Legs! Near, near, no shining sticks, no throwing-sticks!"

"Spiders," Fíli breathed. "Tauriel and Aredhel have no weapons."

Kíli sent Ryxi into the air and followed his brother, their feet pounding the underbrush as the little raven led them toward where she'd last seen their companions.

_Hold on, Tauriel, we're coming._

They crashed into the little copse bristling with weapons. Kíli took a moment to count while Fíli threw himself headlong into the melee: six spiders, all spiny hair and beady eyes—_far too many beady eyes_—and thick legs. They were trying to bite or sting the two elves that stood back to back in the midst of them; but even weaponless, an elf was no easy target. Aredhel, healer or no, had clearly had warrior training; he spun and punched and kicked viciously, seeming to know exactly where to strike to cause the most damage. Behind him, Tauriel did the same, though her strength was severely diminished, Kíli could tell even from here. Her face was pale, her strikes less lethal, her parries slower.

The largest of the beasts seemed to notice it too, rearing up to get clear of her punching arms and butt her with its considerable weight. Kíli lined up his shot and let fly, an arrow burying itself to the fletching in its biggest eye. The creature screamed in agony, falling backward, and Tauriel ducked just as Fíli flew through with his short swords to behead one on her left.

Kíli took out one more with his bow and then drew his longsword, relishing the chance to fight.

Between the four of them, the spiders lay dead mere moments later. Kíli's eyes flicked to his brother, giving him a once-over to ensure he was all right. Fíli was panting, splattered with ichor and trembling from exertion, but he saw Kíli giving him the same treatment he was giving and flashed him a grim smile.

He was fine.

Kíli looked to their companions—Aredhel was helping Tauriel stand, but her eyes were searching for him. She found him, and the most extraordinary expression twisted her face. It seemed to be equal parts joy, distress, and fear. So of course, Kíli did the only logical thing in such a circumstance—he ran to her. She did not wait for him, but started his direction and went to her knees just before he crashed into her. Kíli pulled her tight against him, tangling his fingers in her messy braid and just holding her.

_Mahal_.

"Lass," he croaked through a voice suddenly tight. She just buried her face in his neck in response.

"Thought I'd never see you again," she mumbled, and Kíli shuddered at both the thought and the way her lips moved against his skin.

"I would never have let that happen."

"You almost didn't have a choice, _meleth_ _nin_."

"Believe me, I'd have made it my choice."

Tauriel pulled away, eyes watery, and Kíli swiped an errant tear from her cheek. She looked at him through wet lashes and laughed, running her fingers over his face as though it was a lost treasure found.

_Ah, my lass. So beautiful._

"Oy, you two!" Fíli called from somewhere to their right. Kíli didn't bother looking, but Tauriel did, with a smile. "Come on, some of us are fugitives here, we need to keep moving!"

Kíli laughed, and Tauriel stood, both turning to follow Fíli and Aredhel. The elleth threaded her fingers through his and didn't let go.

* * *

**A/N:** Happy Hump Day everyone! **Thank you so much for reading**, don't forget to drop us a review or PM with your opinions—we're always thrilled to hear them! Below are a couple of translations and chapter notes, feel free to check those out too.

**Summerandblue** is a writing team, don't forget to check out our individual stories at **BlueRiverSteel** and **Summerald** on this site! Blessings to you all! **—Blue (and Summer!)**

* * *

_Íell—_"daughter, young lady, maiden" (Sindarin)

"_Dar! Nuith anglenna, hui!"—"_Halt! Do not come any closer, dog!" (Sindarin)

_Saew—_lit, "poison" (Sindarin), a plant which causes paralysis of the voluntary muscles—including those used for breathing, causing slow death by asphyxiation. However, it does not damage the heart or nervous system, so if breathing restored quickly via the antidote or maintained artificially until the paralysis wears off, the victim will survive. Aredhel laced Tauriel's food with tiny doses of it for weeks, forcing her body into a stupor (that her guards would doubtless notice), before giving her enough to actually cause asphyxiation, at which point he was called for, as the Master Healer.


	9. Chapter 9 - Riverboat and Moonlight

**Chapter 9 - Riverboat and Moonlight**

"What about Ryxi?" Bilbo asked. "Did she stay with you?"

Fíli smiled. "For a day or two."

"She belonged to the Erebor flock," Kíli said. "And she missed her kind, I think."

Fíli laughed. "Probably had a young lad back at the Mountain."

Bilbo smiled. "She was a brave little flier, though. To have done so much for you..."

"_Where do you go little bird, when it snows…?_" Tauriel's voice lilted with a half-sung happy tune.

"An elvish poem?" Bilbo asked, brows drawn with interest.

Tauriel's laugh was light-hearted. "Just a child's rhyme," she said, looking wistfully at the stars coming out in the deepening Shire sky. "Do you not sing such songs to hobbit children?"

Bilbo blinked. "I'm...I'm a bachelor. I suppose my mother sang them to me…but don't get me started on songs and poems," he waved his pipe. "The night is young and you're not nearly done with this tale. Something tells me there's much more to it."

Fíli snorted. "There is indeed, Master Hobbit."

* * *

The two elves and the two dwarves made themselves scarce after dispatching the spiders, seeking to get as far from that territory as they could. They zig-zagged through the undergrowth, heading generally north and west through thick groves and across ferny streams. Fíli and Kíli had the stamina to go for hours, especially after the long days they'd worked hauling rock in Erebor, and Aredhel was as silent, swift, and tireless as only an elf could be.

But Tauriel was straining to keep up.

"She's not well," Fíli said to his brother as they raced along a deer trail.

"Rest and food," Kíli panted, dodging a low branch and staying at Fíli's heels. "That's all she needs."

Fíli nodded. The furtive way she started at every sound told him she needed to be re-armed as well. There wasn't anything he could about the rest or food, but he knew he could help out with the weapons.

By mid-afternoon, Aredhel motioned them into an overgrown gully and they ducked into it, finding a hidden spring of pure, clear water. The elf healer stood sentinel while Kíli helped an exhausted Tauriel to the water's edge where she dipped her head to drink. Fíli tossed his empty waterskin to his brother.

As Kíli filled it, Fíli went on one knee next to Tauriel. He had two hunting knives on his belt that he pulled free and lay on the ground between them.

Tauriel looked up, her careworn, tired expression lifting in curiosity.

He pulled out four different short-bladed skinners from hidden sheaths in his coat, three sets of throwing blades from straps on his thighs, a short-handled machete, a long-handled beared axe, and two broad-bladed daggers.

He looked up to see Tauriel staring at him.

"A few more," he said, drawing a long knife and setting it alongside the others. He thought a minute, then divested himself of one falcata and a pair of curved kukri blades.

"And these," he said, drawing out six boot knives. He looked at her and quirked an eyebrow. "Thought you might want to take your pick."

Kíli looked over her shoulder. "The falcata," he said. "Maybe the long knife."

Tauriel blinked at Fíli. "You're offering me one of your blades?" she asked.

Fíli shrugged. "Shame to see you hindered in a fight. Besides," he looked at her. "I can't fight with them all at the same time. Take whatever you can use." With that, he stood a walked around the spring, kneeling at the little stream that ran downhill from it to wash his hands. He and Kíli had re-fitted themselves with Erebor weapons compliments of the wily Bofur and a back door to the armory. And of course Fíli retained the new set of twin falchions he'd commandeered. But as he bent to wash his face, he heard Tauriel's voice.

"I couldn't," she murmured to Kíli.

"I think you can," his brother answered in a gentle voice. "He wouldn't offer if he didn't mean it, _azinlaz_."

Fíli made of point of looking busy with patting his face dry and then re-strapping a boot, but from the corner of his eye he could see the lass run her fingers over the long knife...her eyes considering the kukri blades. Then she lifted both kukris, executed a neat opposing-force movement, and Kíli smiled.

Fíli stood and walked back to them.

Tauriel crouched and went through a series of defensive positions with the kukri, moving slowly as if just practicing. By the last moves she was on her feet, looking both deadly and skilled if not slightly out of practice.

She stopped when she came face-to-face with him.

"Take the long knife, too," Fíli said, nodding his approval of her instinct for the kukri. "A couple of throwing knives."

He thought she might refuse at first. But her pose relaxed and she weighed the blades in her hands.

Their eyes met, she nodded once, and then inclined her head toward him more formally.

Fíli understood. With respect, he bowed his head in return. "We are heading west," he said. "Are you coming with us?" He almost didn't want to hear the answer, fearing that wherever the elf went, his brother would follow.

Would this be how they parted?

She shook her head and Fíli's gut went hollow. He tried to harden his heart against the choice his brother would have to make.

"I must see Aredhel to Lothlorien. He cannot stay here, not after this." She shook her head and looked toward the place where the old healer stood sentinel. "He's lived in Lorien before. He wishes to return."

"Lorien," Kíli breathed. "So near the Dimrill Dale…"

Fíli blinked. At least part of his brother's brain was still thinking _dwarf._ "Mirrormere," he murmured. "It is a place sacred to Durin's folk."

Tauriel looked at Kíli, then back at him. "If we make for Lorien together, is this not best?"

Fíli looked at his feet. Clearly, his brother wanted to be with the lass, and to be honest, traveling together would put off the decision that was in their future: would Kíli remain with him and return to Ered Luin, or would he go with the elf?

"I agree," Fíli said to Tauriel. "You are not well...we're all safer if we stay together and make for Lorien." But before he could say more, Kíli was there, arms wrapping tightly around him in a happy bear hug worthy of Beorn himself.

"_Nadadith_," Fíli choked out, half-laughing. "Let me breathe…!"

Kíli pulled back, his eyes bright with something Fíli hadn't seen in him since The Shire.

_Hope._ Kíli had hope.

"Thank you," Kíli said in a shy near-whisper as he stepped back. "Sorry I was so stubborn...but I'm glad we waited for them."

Fíli rubbed the shoulder with the healed orc-wound. "Yeah...well...at least it's worked out." They looked at each other a moment, yesterday's argument done. "Sorry, too." Then he nodded toward the blades still spread out on the grass. "What will the Healer want?" he asked.

Tauriel considered, blinking. The lass moved slow and the dark circles under her eyes showed her exhaustion. "The falcata...and one of the hunting knives."

Fíli knelt, set the two aside, and then tucked the remainder back inside his sheaths, pockets, belts, and boots. "I'll just go take these to him," he said picking up the two blades Tauriel had selected. He nodded to Kíli, leaving them to each other. He wasn't sure what the future really held for his brother and the elf lass, but he wouldn't begrudge them a little privacy.

So he left them at the spring and walked up the slope to find Aredhel. As it was, he had to scan the glade twice to see exactly where the venerable elf was standing.

"Thought you might make use of these," Fíli offered the two blades.

Aredhel looked at them, an almost sad expression on his lined face.

"I have not carried a blade in many long years," the elf murmured as he reached for the falcata and wrapped his hand around the hilt. "But my hand well recalls the weight of one." He lifted it, testing his grip.

"What is wrong with Tauriel?" Fíli asked.

Aredhel explained then how he'd used slow poison to prompt a call to him for healing.

"We owe her our lives for saving us on Ravenhill," Fíli said. "And you as well. She wants to make for Lorien with you. If you will have us, we can travel along. Four will be safer than two."

Aredhel nodded. "There is a settlement of men where the Langwell joins the Anduin," he nodded north and west. "I have in mind the hiring of a drift boat to take us downstream. Perhaps a pair of dwarves making inquiries is less telling than an old elf doing it." His smile was kind, his offer of an alliance easy.

Fíli agreed. "A pair of scruffy, wandering dwarves passing through a human settlement is fairly unremarkable."

Aredhel smiled. "Then let us be partners, Master Dwarf," he said, securing the falcata's sheath on one hip and the long knife on the other.

Revived by the brief rest, the unlikely foursome continued on, keeping to unknown paths and heading unerringly west toward the headwaters of the great river Anduin.

Two days of steady travel later, they could see the ruins of Framsburg across a wide, gravelly ford. It was nothing more than a small hamlet of rustic traders inhabiting the outskirts of an old, crumbling city.

"This was once the capital of the Éothéod," Aredhel told them as they peered through brambles and considered the paltry few small boats pulled up on the opposite shore. "Before they moved south." Indeed, the hardscrabble men and women here were wheat-haired and hardy, sturdier of build than the men of Esgaroth and Dale.

The two dwarves quietly combined the few Erebor coins they had and prepared to leave the elves hidden in the woods. To the south, a rocky shoal extended into a bend of the shallow river.

"We will meet you there," Aredhel told them. "I would prefer Tauriel and I remain unseen."

Fíli agreed.

Together, he and Kíli crossed the river on a narrow footbridge and blended into the small crowd of the hamlet's trader market. They spotted two or three other dwarves, whom they avoided, and they took their time making their way along the stalls and booths. Fíli bought a supply of dried venison. Kíli bargained for a leather cloak with a hood that looked as though it would fit Tauriel. It might help them pass without the giveaway of her bright hair.

At the end of the marketplace, they came to the line of drift boats.

"We're looking for passage south," Fíli said to the first man.

He was answered with an up-and-down once-over and the shake of a head.

"How far south?" a second man asked.

"Past the Gladden," Kíli replied quietly.

Another shake of a head.

They inquired with four more men until they reached a leather-clad frontierswoman with a tall, skinny girl who was nearly Fíli's height. Fíli thought she was near the age of Bard's youngest daughter. The woman, tall and light-haired, leaned on a paddle and narrowed her eyes.

"Past the Gladden, eh?" She eyed them, noting their sword hilts. "Pair of dwarves. Young dwarves," she added.

Kíli made a hand-on-heart bow to her. "Would you be willing to hire? To take us that far?"

She tilted her head skeptically. "You have gold?"

Fíli kept his hand low, but opened it to show two coins. "Two now. Four," he said pointedly, "When we arrive at our destination."

The woman raised an eyebrow. "You and what else?" The woman obviously expected cargo.

Fíli shook his head. "Nothing but us," he said. Then he smiled. "And two companions."

The woman looked from Fíli to Kíli, then shrugged. "I am Raega, this is Briar. That's our boat."

The brothers looked at the well-used, flat-bottomed drift boat. It had high sides, faded white-wash, a few dents and scrapes on the wood, but room for all of them and a large mottled tarp obviously used to cover trade goods.

"Can you leave today?" Fíli asked.

Raega held out her hand and leveled a steady eye at him. "For those two coins, Master Dwarf, we can leave right now."

* * *

"A boat? A drift boat?" Bilbo stared at Fíli, then shook his head. "Don't trust boats. Was that really your best choice?"

Fíli laughed. "Lucky for us, we're not hobbits and we like boats just fine," he said. But Bilbo noticed that he didn't have a merry twinkle in his eye—that Fíli's expression held a touch of sadness. He looked at Kíli and Tauriel, who both looked away.

"What...what happened?" he said, almost fearing to ask. "With the boats, I mean. Were you cheated? I can see from your expressions that something…"

Fíli held up a hand. "I'll tell you, but let me say it my own way."

Bilbo nodded. He glanced at the three travelers again, realizing that whatever it was, these three at least had survived.

"All right, yes." He leaned back and puffed his pipe, trying not to look impatient or worried. He really did want to hear the whole thing.

"Turns out Raega was a very good friend and guide," Tauriel said, her eyes looking at the night sky.

"_Was…_?" Bilbo asked.

* * *

Raega's drift boat was a far better craft, Fíli decided, than the scavenged boat they'd all used to flee Laketown. Fíli helped toss their gear inside and push off, giving young Briar a boost.

"I met a lass about your age in Laketown a while back. Tilda. She wore a dress, though."

Briar looked at him with round eyes. "Leathers for me. I hate dresses."

Fíli heard Raega laugh. The boat-woman wore leathers as well.

"We're about to pick-up another lass," Kíli offered, settling his pack in the bottom of the boat. "She's not much on dresses, either."

"Show me where your friends are. And if this is some kind of ambush…" Raega glared at them, obviously all too familiar with the kind of petty crime that would rob a drift-boater of a her income or her life.

Fíli held up his hands to show he was no threat and nodded to the eastern shore, downstream. "Two elves. An old healer and a lass who's been...recovering," he said, avoiding any mention of the truth—that Tauriel was a fugitive escapee. He regretted that they were putting Raega and Briar in danger, but he was being as honest as he could.

Raega rowed the boat into the shallow current and let it drift south. When they reached the gravelly shoal outside of town, Aredhel and Tauriel were standing in plain view.

Kíli waved, Aredhel bowed, and Fíli wondered for a moment if Raega would bypass their companions.

But the lass dipped her oar in the water and turned the boat, expertly beaching it on the shore just past the place where the elves stood waiting.

Introductions were made, their scant gear stowed, and it was Aredhel who effortlessly pushed them off and gracefully eased himself aboard.

"Raega here has agreed to take us as far as the Gladden," Fíli reported, revealing that he'd not told Raega of their actual destination of Lothlorien.

Aredhel nodded while in the background, Kíli settled the hooded cloak around Tauriel, disguising her enough that she looked more human than elven.

"Two days, if we don't stop at night." Raega considered her passengers.

"Stopping is not necessary," Aredhel said calmly. "But staying out of sight is preferred." He looked at the mottled tarp.

"Help yourself," Raega said, her eyes scanning the tree-lined shore, her expression concerned. Clearly, she knew there was more to her passengers' story than a simple need to reach the Gladden.

The elves settled themselves back-to-back under the tarp while Fíli and Kíli posted themselves in the bow, acting as lookouts. They scanned the shoreline, and Kíli kept his bow handy. Fíli had his throwing knives, and on one stop to portage the boat around a roaring waterfall, he acquired a collection of good throwing stones with sharp edges.

The first night they stayed on the river late into the evening. The skies were clear and they traveled with the current under a bright, full moon.

Tauriel, having actually slept a bit under cover of the tarp, woke to the gentle lapping of water against the boat and the bright stars overhead.

Fíli watched her stretch, then sit up, her eyes wide as she looked at the bright, starry night sky. For the first time since they'd awakened in Thranduil's prison, she looked genuinely happy.

Before midnight, they passed the confluence of the Anduin and the Rindath, and as the boat eased into a wide lake, Fíli watched young Briar move to sit closer to the tall _elleth_, obviously fascinated with the elf woman. Tauriel, in turn, smiled and offered to re-braid the girl's straw-gold hair.

"Why do you look at the moon?" Briar asked.

"The moon is sacred to elves," Tauriel answered. "_After the_ _Darkening of Valinor_ _and the destruction of the_ _Two Trees__,"_ she recited, "_Telperion, the White Tree, bore one last Flower of Silver before its end._ _Aulë_ _and his people made a vessel to carry to the silver flower aloft, and_ _Tilion__, one of the hunters of_ _Oromë__, was granted the task of steering the new Moon through the sky."_

"_Aulë_ _and his people _means dwarves made it," Fíli added.

Tauriel looked at him as if affronted, then he saw her expression change as she realized this was so. She looked at Kíli as if seeing him in a new light.

Kíli grinned and shrugged.

"So the elves say that dwarves made the moon?" Briar asked as Tauriel wove three slim braids together.

"Well, they made vessel it rides in," Fíli answered. Then he shrugged. "If you believe the old tales."

"I've always heard that the moon is woman. Rána the wanderer," Raega said. "She is secretly in love with the Sun but they are never together for long."

At this, Briar blushed. She looked at Kíli, obviously aware by this time that he and Tauriel were a little more than interested in each other. She hid her mouth behind her hand as she giggled and Tauriel tied off the braid and sat back to admire it.

Fíli decided to distract the lass. "Where we come from in the north, there are a small people called hobbits. You'd like them. They sing songs about the man in the moon."

"Really? A man…?" Briar asked.

Fíli nodded sagely. "So if you ever find yourself in The Shire, be sure to ask."

An hour later, Raega beached the drift boat on a small island that split the river, and she led them to a sheltered camp.

"I've used this site before," she said as they settled around a stone fire pit. "It is safe enough for tonight. Tomorrow you will be at the Gladden."

With chagrin, Fíli faced Raega. "About that," he said. "We'd rather go a little further south, to be honest."

Raega looked dubious. "How far south?" she asked.

Aredhel inclined his head to her. "Caras Galadon."

Raega's eyebrows shot up. "Caras Galadon...perfectly safe. Getting past the eastern shore by Dol Guldur?" She shook her head no.

Yet Aredhel took her aside, spoke softly to her, and as Fíli watched, the river woman's demeanor went from refusal to tentative acceptance.

"The people of Lorien would make good on that? To escort us north again?" Her return trip north would be more dangerous than their quick trip south, Fíli realized.

Aredhel bowed to her, hand on heart. "I would see to it myself."

* * *

"So Raega took you all the way to Lorien?" Bilbo asked. The same moon was rising, a thin crescent in the Shire sky.

"Not exactly," Kíli said, looking sad.

"We lost Raega," Fíli told him. "Orcs on the eastern shore. She was right to be worried about passing Dol Guldur's lands."

Bilbo stared at them. "What? How….?"

"Random arrow shot from the trees. Happened so fast we hardly knew there was danger. One shot, through the heart." Fíli touched his chest and shook his head. "By the time I got to her, the light was already gone from her eyes."

Bilbo blinked. "Just like that?"

Tauriel reached for Kíli's hand. "Our own archer shot back. Four orcs, likely stationed there to just prey on anyone going downstream. We couldn't have known."

"Did you get them?" Bilbo asked.

"Yes," Kíli said sadly. "But the damage was done." He looked at his hands, dejected at the memory. Shooting orcs after the fact was no consolation for the loss of a brave friend.

"Fíli grabbed the oars and aimed us away from the shoreline, and Aredhel tried to revive her," Tauriel said quietly. "I caught Briar—at first she cried out and struggled…" Tauriel's eyes were wide at the memory. "I thought she might tip the boat. Then she seemed to know her mother was gone and she just went so still…" Her voice broke and she shook her head.

"So we made it to Lorien," Fíli looked at Bilbo with sadness. "But Raega was no longer with us."

* * *

****A/N Thanks so much** for reading! Please don't be shy—leave us a quick review or PM if you like. We love to hear from you and it helps us stay focused on getting the chapters out.

**Summerandblue** is a writing team. You can find my stories under **Summerald** and Blue's under **BlueRiverSteel**. Check them out if you haven't already!

Mahal's Blessings,

**Summer (and Blue!)**

* * *

**The source for Tauriel's recitation of the moon lore: _The Silmarillion_, "Of the Sun and Moon and the Hiding of Valinor."

It is, however, purely my own speculation that _Aulë_ _and his people _means dwarves. And yes, Raega's version of the Rana story is intentionally off...my other speculation is that the versions of moon stories told by the Men of the upper Anduin have drifted a bit over time...;P Cheers! -Summer.)**


	10. Chapter 10 - Broken and Remade

**Chapter 10 – Broken and Remade**

* * *

Bilbo was silent for a moment, mourning the loss of a lass he'd never even met. It was clear his friends were still haunted by the memory, short time though they'd known Raega.

With a jolt, a question hit him. "What of Briar?" he asked, almost afraid to hear the answer. "She is not with you, clearly; did she make it home safely, or…?"

Kíli laughed a little, and Fíli wore the most extraordinary expression—equal parts irritation and fondness. "That little spitfire is alive and quite well, never you fear," the younger of the brothers answered. "She came with us to Lorien almost by default."

"Ah, Lorien!" Bilbo leaned back in his seat. "Tell me of Lorien, lads. What was it like?"

Kíli and Tauriel shared an affectionate smile, and Fíli's eyes were wide. "It was beautiful in a way I've never seen before," he looked nearly reverent. "Even Rivendell couldn't match Lorien for allure."

"Aye," Kíli agreed, taking over the story at a nod from Fíli. "And its Lady even more so."

* * *

Weary and heavy-hearted, the five travelers happened upon Lorien's guards the evening after Raega's death. They had taken time to burn her body on the shores of the River—an odd tradition, but young Briar had insisted, muttering something about orc filth digging her mother up and desecrating the remains. Kíli had winced at the thought, but supposed it made sense given her people's hard life on the plains. Tauriel had helped the lass ready her mother's body while Aredhel stood guard and the lads prepared the pyre. Rough as it was, Briar had favored them both with a look of gratitude and lit the dry tinder herself.

Kíli had recognized the expression with which she had watched her mother's body burn. Pale face, hard eyes, thin lips—it was the same expression Fíli had worn in the days following Thorin's death, after they'd woken enough to understand that their Uncle was gone. Like he'd felt for his brother, Kíli wanted nothing less than to fold the child into a tight hug; but given the way she shrugged Tauriel's hand off her shoulder and refused to so much as speak to the rest of them made him think it was likely to be an unwelcome gesture.

So when the vast forest of Lorien appeared on the banks of the river, Kíli noted with some relief that Aredhel and Tauriel stationed themselves in the prow, standing tall and deliberately easy to spot.

"Ground us there," Aredhel pointed to a sandy river beach on the western shore. Briar dug her oar into the water and guided the heavy boat to land. Fíli and Kíli beached the craft as the elves gathered their meagre possessions and disembarked. Briar stood in the middle of the drift boat, blinking furiously.

Tauriel paused, then approached her slowly. They exchanged words Kíli could not hear, and the girl swiped at her wet cheeks angrily before hopping over the high side of the boat with a simple leather pack. She stumbled a little when she hit the sand, but recovered on her own and made to follow them.

Tauriel nodded to Aredhel, who clearly understood it to mean the human lass was staying with them, at least for now, and led them forward.

They'd been trekking along the quiet forest for nearly an hour before Kíli ventured to ask their guide, "How long until the Guards find us?"

Aredhel chuckled a little. "They have seen us already, young Master Dwarf." He turned back and bestowed a small smile on the gaping dwarves, who were looking about in alarm. "The Warriors of Lorien are renowned as the most stealthy and mindful of all elves. Believe me, they know we're here."

"Then why do they not confront us?" Fíli asked, fingers twitching toward the nearest of his many knives. Aredhel fixed him with a stern look.

"Tauriel and I are elves," he replied. "And you have yet to draw your weapons. If you wish to enter this realm as a free dwarf, I suggest you remain calm and leave your blades sheathed."

Fíli's jaw clenched, and _Mahal_, if Kíli didn't know exactly how he felt. He itched to feel his bow in his hands suddenly, as little difference as it would make against such talented warriors. He looked back at Tauriel, who was bringing up the rear of their group behind young Briar, and she nodded in agreement of Aredhel's words.

Kíli sighed, clenching and unclenching his fists to loosen the tension in his arms. He reminded himself to breathe, then noticed with something akin to relief that Tauriel was having less trouble keeping up. She was still thin and pale, even for an elf; but the previous few nights' decent rest and open sky was already beginning to do her good.

The realization made him turn away so no one would see him smile in spite of everything.

"The elf speaks aright," a strange voice said, and Kíli suddenly found himself nose-to-tip with a long arrow. Instinctively, he reached for Fíli without taking his eyes from the tall, flaxen-haired guard that had him in its sights. His brother squeezed his forearm and didn't let go—Kíli knew he was resisting every urge to draw a knife or one of his falchions in the face of this new threat.

"_Mae govannen, Haldir_," Kíli heard Aredhel greet one of the guards in a calm voice. "Pray you withdraw your weapons from my friends' faces; they clearly mean you no harm."

"Aredhel?" a second voice answered. Kíli still wouldn't look away from the one in front of him to see who was speaking. "Many long years it has been since last I saw you."

A scuffle behind him drew Kíli's attention, a small growl followed by a, "get that _out_ of my face!" Tauriel called Briar's name, but apparently not before she made a foolish move; by the time Kíli turned to face the trouble, the lass was held in a tight lock by a snarling guard, a shining knife at her throat, her eyes narrowed as she clearly contemplated another move to escape.

"Briar, hold," Tauriel commanded firmly. "Do not move."

"_Darta!"_ the second, commanding voice rang out, and the guard holding Briar settled instantly, though he did not release her. "Aredhel, what is the meaning of this?"

Kíli chanced a look at their Healer, who was holding his hands before him in an expression of innocence. "The maiden and I"—he referred to Tauriel—"have left Thranduil's realm due to irreconcilable differences of opinion. The Dwarves are Sons of Durin; Thorin Oakenshield's sister-sons, Fíli and Kíli. The human and her mother were our guides on the river. We need only to rest and refit, and I would request an audience with my Lady Galadriel, if she is of a mind to see me."

A stern-looking guard with hair so blond it was almost white—Haldir, Kíli assumed—took Aredhel's shoulders in his hands, his expression softening. "She will be most pleased to see you, _brûnmeldir,"_ he said. "As I am."

Kíli breathed a little easier. Haldir looked away from Aredhel and nodded to the guards. "_Leitha_," he commanded, and the weapons were withdrawn, if not sheathed or relinquished entirely.

* * *

Meeting the Lady Galadriel was unlike any experience Kíli had ever had. Haldir had led them into the elven city in the forest, to glowing lights inside twisted trunks of massive trees, the air charged with magic and ringing with the haunting notes of elf song. He was sure the wonder of it shone on his face, but he was too awed to do anything about it.

Their path had led in a huge spiral up to the top of the tallest tree—Kíli felt a niggling sense of trepidation at that. Dwarves weren't created to be this far from the earth. But he forgot all about that as soon as Haldir presented them to the Lord and Lady of Lothlorien.

Celeborn was impossibly tall, and like everything else in his kingdom, seemed to glow with an inner light that radiated from his pale skin. But though Kíli often found it difficult to tell the difference between male and female elves, it was impossible to mistake the blonde elf that appeared on Celeborn's left as anything but the famed Lady of the Wood. Her hair fell in golden waves down her back, her eyes a lighter blue than Fíli's, but no less expressive. She wore a welcoming smile as easily as she wore the silver robes with which she was adorned, and a sparkling circlet of tiny diamonds.

Kíli heard his brother's sharp intake of breath and knew he wasn't the only one bewildered by the Lady. Tauriel stepped up next to him, with an arm still around Briar's shoulders—though the lass looked unlikely to pick any fights at the moment, so busy was she staring wide-eyed at their hosts. Aredhel placed his hand on his chest and twisted it as he bowed, in a gesture of genuine respect. Celeborn smiled at his wife, whose eyes lit.

"Master Aredhel," she held her arms open. "It has been far too long, _mellon_, you are most welcome here."

"My Lord Celeborn, my Lady Galadriel," their Healer greeted. "It is truly a pleasure to see you both again."

Galadriel looked to the others, her expression equal parts fascinated and amused. "But who are your companions?"

Aredhel answered, but Kíli couldn't listen as the elf queen's gentle voice rang in his head. _Kíli, Son of Dis. You are known to me._

His eyes widened to near-comical proportions as he looked at her, uncertain how he felt about _anyone_ in his head, much less an elf whose consciousness felt powerful enough to squash him like an insect.

_How?_ he ventured silently.

_The Son of Durin afflicted by a morgul wound,_ she continued, looking sad. _And the younger of the Sons of Dis, healed by Thranduil and cheated out of the Throne of Erebor by a cousin. Much pain you have endured, young one._

Kíli flushed at the admission, but repeated his question. _How do you know all this?_

Her smile returned. _ I know many things. I know, too, that you come here torn; facing a decision that will shape your destiny. I say this to you, Son of Durin; fear not. Regardless of which path you choose, you shall not lose that which is dearest to you._

While Kíli stood gaping—at the entire situation in addition to Galadriel's reassurances of questions he'd only asked in his deepest heart—he felt Fíli pluck at his sleeve, not impatiently.

"Come, brother," he murmured. Kíli blinked and followed; noting vaguely that there was something, _something_ in Fíli's eyes that hadn't been there before.

Perhaps he wasn't the only one the Lady had spoken silently to.

The elf leading them—to guest quarters, Kíli thought—brought them back to the forest floor. After several minutes of walking and still gaping, they came upon a tree so massive, a door had been carved into its trunk. Their guide opened the door and ushered them in with a small bow, and Kíli realized there was an entire guest house inside this tree trunk.

Such odd customs, elves had.

"Rest well, wherever you wish," the young elf said. Tauriel thanked him, and he left.

Fíli was off exploring their quarters the moment the door had closed, but Kíli turned about, taking in the room and its occupants. They had evidently lost Aredhel somewhere, because Briar and Tauriel were the only other ones there.

"Where has he gone?" he asked.

"He stayed to speak with the Lord and Lady," Tauriel answered him, quietly. She looked slightly thunderstruck, and Kíli was reminded that she'd never left Mirkwood and was still relatively young, for an elf. Briar alone seemed to have recovered quickly from their meeting, and stood yawning expansively.

"There are three rooms," Fíli reported back. "Kíli, you and I can share; I thought we'd give the lassies one, and let Aredhel have his own." Nods met his announcement, and Kíli smiled as he bid goodnight to Tauriel and Briar, then followed his brother into the spacious room they would share.

Fíli was abnormally quiet as they readied themselves for bed—a heavy silence, not the companionable sort he was growing used to as his brother adjusted to the massive emotional traumas they had recently endured. It worried Kíli, and he placed a hand on his brother's cotton-clad shoulder.

"Fee?"

Fíli shook his head. "Not tonight, Kíli. I'm all right, I just can't…not tonight."

Disappointed, but understanding, Kíli settled in next to Fíli under the covers, pressing their backs together for warmth and comfort. He didn't figure he'd sleep much, with the question to which Galadriel had referred bouncing around in his skull:

Would he stay with Tauriel, or go home with Fíli?

He wanted Tauriel, there was no denying it now. He loved her, admired her pluck and endurance, wanted to make a go of something more than friendship with her. He almost snorted aloud: of course he, of all people, would've fallen for an elf.

But Fíli's words, spoken in anger though they'd been, still stung.

"_But you'd abandon Mother?"_ The implication was clear—Fíli felt betrayed by Kíli's affection for the elf lass, and that pricked him deep. Fíli was right; he had a promise to fulfill to his mother, and he didn't want to leave his brother, not even for a short time. Not after the last several months' worth of heartache. Fíli was the only thing that had kept him sane for much of it.

Eventually his brother's steady heartbeat and deep breaths lulled the younger prince to sleep, still wrestling with the decision.

* * *

Bilbo watched Fíli's head droop a little as Kíli told of that night. "What did the Lady Galadriel tell you?" he asked, realizing belatedly it was an intensely personal question and he should never have asked it.

But Fíli didn't seem at all offended, just plucked idly at a blade of grass. He seemed to consider the question, then answered quietly, "Only that love endures past all; past pain and death and loss and even past betrayal." There was nothing but peace in his expression as he met Bilbo's eyes. "I knew she referred to Thorin, to Mother, to Balin and Dwalin and all our friends from whom we'd been separated and I missed terribly...but mostly she referred to Kíli."

The younger brother smiled widely, punched Fíli's shoulder. "You're not rid of me that easily, _nadad_. I'm not going anywhere."

Noting Tauriel's nod of approval, Bilbo cocked an eyebrow as Fíli responded quietly. "You would have left me, Kee, to stay with your lass."

But Kíli was shaking his head. "No. I wouldn't have."

* * *

He sat alone, the massive trunk of an oak at his back and its tangled roots surrounding him. He was thinking hard, trying to come to terms with the fact that he was going to have to be separated from Tauriel, for Mahal only knew how long, _again_.

But he would not leave his brother. This he knew, and this he was certain Tauriel would understand.

Kíli jumped a little when a soft sound came from behind him, hand drifting for his knife; clearly his battle instincts were not completely silenced even here, in what was nearly the safest place in Middle Earth. He relaxed when he looked over his shoulder and saw the very subject of his ruminations, her red hair shining in the dappled sunlight that made its way through the leaves.

"Tauriel," he managed a small smile that didn't reach his eyes. She sat gracefully beside him, her face truly peaceful as she leaned back and let the sun warm her skin.

"I was looking for you," she said softly, green eyes meeting his. As always, Kíli found himself captivated by her eyes—so much she said with them, not unlike his uncle had been in life. To a stranger, they would communicate nothing but ferocity and simmering danger; but to Kíli, who had always been more intuitive than many of his race, her eyes also spoke of hidden vulnerability, a soft and tender love for many things—starlight not least of all—and a youthful innocence that belied her true age.

It fascinated him.

"You found me," he responded, and her lips twitched in quiet amusement.

"I wish to accompany you on your journey, if you will have me."

"To Ered Luin?" he was surprised, and was sure she heard it in his voice. She sat up straight and looked him dead in the eyes.

"To _anywhere_, Kíli."

He blinked, trying to determine if she was serious. He had no reason to believe she wasn't—Tauriel was no joker, though she did have a rather dry sense of humor he loved—but he could hardly believe it.

"Tell me plainly," he pled. "Do you mean to say…you want to…?"

She took his hand, twisting their fingers together thoughtfully. "I want to be with you. I know ours would not be a…_typical_…relationship; I am a warrior, not a homemaker, and there is no real precedent for a dwarf-elf union, but…I want to try."

"Tauriel," he choked on his words. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "This will not be easy. Folks will hate us for this, and…you will endure long after I am gone to the Halls of Mandos. Are you certain this is what you desire?"

Those emerald eyes were steady. "Yes, I am. Are you?"

Blinking hard, Kíli leaned closer. "I am, _amrâmilê_," he whispered, and the endearment felt so right, so perfect for her. A smile spread slowly over her beautiful face, and Kíli felt his heart thump in his chest. Going to his knees, so he was slightly taller than she as they sat, he pressed his lips to hers for the second time.

It was just as breathtaking as the first.

* * *

"I had already decided to stay with you when Tauriel asked to come with us," Kíli was still speaking to his brother, and Bilbo was struck with the sudden realization that he was watching these two heal right before his eyes. "I would have waited to be with her until Mother was safe and settled in Ered Luin, then sent for Tauriel." He smiled at his lass. "Perhaps we would have settled outside the Halls in a place of our own, or maybe somewhere closer to Duillond."

Fíli's eyes were wide. "You were going to stay?"

"You think I'd let you go on a dangerous mission alone?"

Both lads sat, staring, silently working through the pain they had unintentionally caused one another. Tauriel looked between the two, obviously torn between frustration and trust that they would work it out.

Bilbo knew how she felt. They seemed to be having some sort of private conversation with their eyes, and it was incredibly frustrating to not be privy to it.

Slowly, Kíli began to grin; Fíli couldn't seem to help himself, he smiled too. Kíli nodded, and then Bilbo was well and truly shocked.

Both lads began to laugh. Small chuckles turned into amused snorts, which soon became hearty guffaws that echoed past Bilbo's front gate and into the small valley that led into Hobbiton. Bilbo looked to Tauriel, who simply shrugged as if to say, _let them have their moment_.

So Bilbo just watched Thorin's heirs laughing on his lawn and shook his head, amused.

* * *

_Darta—_Sindarin. "Halt, stay."

_Brûnmeldir—_Sindarin. "Old friend"

_Leitha_—Sindarin. "Release them"

_Amrâmilê—_Khuzdul, "My love"

* * *

**A/N:** Happy Thursday, everyone, **thanks for reading!** Loved bringing in Galadriel and Haldir for this chapter, hope you enjoyed them as well! Don't forget to leave a review or PM with your opinions—they're fuel for both our writer brains!

Remember, you can check out our individual stories under our separate pen names: **Summerald** and **BlueRiverSteel**. We both are at that point in our stories where the endgame is set and everything is about to go crazy, so it's the perfect time to check those out as well, if you like!

**Blessings!**

**Blue (and Summer!)**


	11. Chapter 11 - Farewell to Lorien

**Chapter 11 - Farewell to Lorien  
**

Filí tried to catch his breath and stop laughing. Funny how misunderstandings seemed so silly when you realized how they looked from someone else's point of view.

"Ah, lads," Bilbo chuckled. "You'll be frightening Mrs. Twofoot's redcap layers down the hill and then we'll not have eggs for a week."

"Scaring the hens?" Filí tapped out his pipe, grinning like an idiot. He leaned forward to clean the bowl, noticing that his brother, predictably, had locked eyes with Tauriel and the two of them looked likely to forget where they were.

"That would definitely put a damper on Second Breakfast." He shook his head. "Can't have that."

Bilbo had also noticed that Kilí and Tauriel had eyes only for each other. He winked at Filí and sat back to finish his smoke.

Overhead, the sky had darkened to a full night but the warmth of the Shire day lingered in the air. It was a right pleasant evening, Filí decided, with the sky showing off its starry gems.

"Obviously you left Lorien," Bilbo said after the merriment settled. "Did Briar stay there? With Aredhel…?"

Filí shook his head, tapped his pipe one more time and pocketed it. "It was generally agreed that the young lass Briar should be returned to her people."

"Galadriel felt so," Tauriel said, weaving her fingers through Kilí's as she looked at Bilbo again. "She assigned an escort to take her back upriver and return her to Framsburg."

"So we said farewell to her," Filí said, but he couldn't help a wry smile and he could tell Bilbo's curiosity would not leave off until the story was fully told.

* * *

On a still, misty morning a week to the day after their arrival in Lorien, Filí stood with his brother, Aredhel, and Tauriel, helping Briar get settled into her mother's boat. A full dozen elves of Lothlorien gathered to join her, two in the drift boat with the lass, and five each in accompanying elf canoes.

But Briar was sullen. "I don't want to go back to Framsburg," she muttered.

Filí and Tauriel looked at each other. It was not unexpected that the girl was unhappy. Her mother was just eight days dead and the trip would pass again by the unfortunate place where it happened.

Kilí ducked his head, and busied himself with coiling a rope.

Tauriel knelt to speak with Briar, eye to eye. "But that is your home, young one. Do you not have family to rejoin?"

Briar didn't reply. She stared at her feet, blinking, and then Galadriel was there, smiling down at the girl who looked up slowly.

"_No vain i arad._" she said, brushing a wheat-colored lock of hair from Briar's face. "May the day be fair, young Briar. And your journey swift. Grief will not always weigh so heavily upon you." One of the ladies-in-waiting curtsied gracefully and held out draped cloth to Galadriel, who accepted it and held out a roughspun green cloak.

"I cannot return your mother to you," she said sadly. "But I will grant you the loan of a Lorien cloak. It will protect you and keep you hidden while you travel." She opened it and Tauriel helped settle it on the girl's shoulders.

Briar's expression went from sullen to mildly impressed, her fingertips brushing the soft, light fabric. She looked up at Galadriel, her eyes wide at the unexpected honor.

Galadriel's eyes seemed to sparkle. "Send it back with your escort, young _mellon_."

Tauriel nudged the girl, eyes wide at her lapse of manners and Briar was quick to stand straight. "Thank you, ma'am," she said, hand on heart and bowing, human-style.

Galadriel merely smiled as if amused and held up a hand, nodding once to the elven escort, and then gliding off, departing to Filí knew not where.

But he thought Briar a little too willing and too thoughtful when she stepped over the bow of her mother's driftboat to take a seat.

Kilí tossed her the coiled rope as the elves pushed silently off into the early morning mist and paddled for the main river. Filí didn't envy them—it would be several days of steady rowing against the Anduin's current. But at least Briar would retain ownership of her mother's boat and Filí had made sure she'd received all of the coin promised to Raega.

The following day, Filí and Kilí, with an escort from Haldir's guard and the blessing of The Lady, traced the Silverlode into the foothills to the place where a lone monolith overlooked a small, still lake.

"It is not safe to stay long," Haldir said, watchful for orcs with his bow at the ready. "But look upon the water as the sun sets, if you wish."

Filí and Kilí approached the still, sacred pool of water alone and stopped when they stood beside Durin's Stone. It was cracked, weather-worn, and broken at the top.

Much like the line of Durin itself.

"_Kheled-zâram_," Kilí murmured, turning his gaze to the still, dark water and giving it its name in Khuzdul.

Filí said nothing. He walked slowly to the water's edge, looking at the smooth mirror-like surface. He did not expect to see his reflection and indeed saw nothing but stars and the great jagged shadow of the granite ridge high above.

He fished in his inner pocket and pulled out the ruby that he carried—the Heart of Durin: a polished, faceted, solid hunk of deep red stone the size of baby's fist.

"_Mahal, _forgive me. I only wish to cleanse the stone in the light of Durin's Crown and return it to Nai's own daughter." And then he cupped the ruby in his hands and knelt at the waters' edge, letting the water surround and bathe the stone.

If he expected magical lights or visions of Aüle, he was disappointed.

But when he lifted his hands and let the water fall away, maybe—just maybe, the stone sparked a little brighter in the starlight. He closed his eyes and rested his head against his hands. _Mahal, lead me on the right path. Show me where my duty lies. What fight do I now fight? For what cause do I spend my days? _He felt rudderless and he wanted a sign, but with his uncle dead and their company scattered, from what quarter would that guidance come?

"The elves are nervous," Kilí said softly, coming up beside him.

Filí opened his eyes. The Mirrormere...so sacred, so dangerously unsafe.

"We should go…" His brother's voice was quiet.

Filí nodded and stood. He re-pocketed the ruby, and in silence the brothers returned to their elven escort and followed the Silverlode back to Lorien.

* * *

"You saw...you actually beheld _Kheled-zâram?" _Bilbo's voice was just as quiet as Kilí's had been that night.

Filí nodded. "But don't ask me to make sense of it."

No one spoke. Filí became aware of crickets chirping—not the maddening drone of locusts or cicadas as he'd heard in rougher parts of the world—but a gentle churr-churr, no louder than meadowlarks.

"How long did you stay in Lorien?" Bilbo asked after a while.

"Not long," Fili murmured. "Though it's genuinely hard to tell time in that place. I think we left the next day. But we had a surprise before nightfall." Filí let his head fall back against his wooden chair, a sign that the surprise must have been annoying rather than dangerous.

"A surprise? Let me guess…" Bilbo drew a deep breath and also sat back. "Briar."

On the lawn, Tauriel heaved a sigh and collapsed on her back. "Feisty, unruly little ungrateful ragamuffin…"

Kilí burst into a fit of whole-hearted laughter. "We followed the River Nimrodel," he said, calming himself to speak to Bilbo, "Making for the Redhorn Pass when we heard quite the unmistakable fuss."

* * *

It was Tauriel who first heard the noise. They were three hours up the steep switchbacks of the lower Redhorn when she turned, quickly arming her bow and looking back, ears alert.

Filí drew both swords and Kilí nocked an arrow.

Then the sound of a young girl's cry of frightened rage.

"Briar…" Tauriel was off like a flash, backtracking the way they'd come. Filí and Kilí, carrying most of their gear, dropped packs and followed, weapons at the ready.

_Mahal, _Filí thought. How had Briar followed them?

They came upon the lass on the edge of a steep drop-off, her back to a large stone as she held off nine orcs by wielding a filthy looking orc-sword with no skill whatsoever. It was a standoff that she was about to lose.

Tauriel's first three arrows dropped orcs before they knew she was upon them. She ducked a thrown spear, then stair-stepped up to an overhang, somersaulting into four orcs standing stupidly unprepared in the back, slashing them with her short swords.

Filí charged the two who reached for Briar, slashing left, then right, gutting the first. He spun, bringing both blades around to smack the second one in the jaw. The orc went sideways, overbalanced, and toppled off the edge, its neck at an unnatural angle as it fell.

Filí turned back in time to see Kilí driving his sword into the heart of an arrow-wounded orc who'd managed to stand and aim a throwing knife. The orc went over backwards and Kilí looked left and right for more vermin.

There were none. For a moment, all was quiet. Then the tenor note of an elf-horn sounded on the trail below.

"Lorien," Tauriel said, turning sharply to face Briar. "They are on their way."

They all looked at Briar. The lass stood with orc-blade pointed up, her expression defiant. Filí scowled at her and reached for the blade, easily wrenching it out of Briar's weak grip and tossing it toward his brother, who caught it neatly. Kilí glowered and threw it down.

"You stole a sword from them?" Filí demanded. He wanted to yell at the girl and smack her upside the head, but Tauriel was coming toward them, face flushed and brows drawn.

"Where is your sense of caution?" The elleth growled. "Where is your _escort?_"

"They've been well and truly ditched," Briar said, flipping the elf cloak back. "And they gave me the way to do it without being seen."

The cloak, Filí realized.

Briar glared at Tauriel. "I'm not going back…that elf queen has it wrong—there's no one back in Framsburg I ever want to see again. Especially not without my mother." Her voice broke on the last word.

As angry as they all were, that brought them up short. It was, after all, their fault that Briar's mother was dead. They'd hired Raega, persuaded her to go farther south on the river than her good sense said was safe, and then they'd been unable to prevent the surprise attack that killed her.

It was Kilí who broke the tableau. "Lass…" he said in a low, sad voice. He reached one hand toward her in sympathy.

Briar sniffed, looking suddenly as young as she truly was and ran to him, burying her head in his shoulder.

Kilí's expression was bleak as he folded his arms around her.

Filí let his breath out. "We do not have time to take her back to Lorien. We need to keep moving—the faster we're out of orc territory, the better."

"You will leave the cloak," Tauriel said. "It was given to you as a loan, not for keeping."

Kilí pulled away from Briar, holding her at arm's length. "She's right," he murmured to the girl. "Leave it here with the dead orcs as a thank you."

Filí thought Briar would refuse, but to her credit, the lass nodded and slipped off the cloak, folding it neatly. She handed it to Tauriel.

Filí and Kilí exchanged a glance, and then Kilí nodded to the lass. "We will accept your company on the road, Briar. But you will obey Tauriel as you would have obeyed your mother." He pinned Briar with a stern eye and lowered his voice. "You will not leave her sight."

Filí had to look down a moment, finding his _nadadith _suddenly comical. To hear such a thing, he reflected, coming from Kilí…! He could almost hear Thorin Oakenshield's hearty guffaw.

The lass replied with a defiant tilt of her chin.

"Don't even try," Filí growled. "To out-stubborn a dwarf, lassie."

Brair's shoulders shifted, then lowered, and she looked from Filí to Tauriel, and then slowly nodded her acquiescence to Kilí.

"We will need to keep moving until well after sunset," Kilí said to the girl as Tauriel left the folded cloak with a small stack of stones to hold it down.

Fili approved. Elves called such things a _kopki, _and the very order and balance carried messages. He trusted this one said something to the effect of _sorry, here's the cloak, we'll take her off your hands, good luck with all the orcs._

* * *

Bilbo sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "So she went with you from there on?"

Filí nodded. "Yes. Though really, our trip across Eregion was unremarkable…"

Tauriel sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees, head tilted up at the night sky. "Except the time you rescued Briar from a wolf."

Kilí rolled his eyes. "And the time Tauriel saved her from highwaymen outside Tharbad."

Tauriel snorted. "Not to mention you defending her in that fight with the traveling dwarf lads…"

Kilí grinned. "It took you and Filí both to soothe everyone's feelings after that one...especially with their big sister."

Tauriel raised an eyebrow at Filí now. "But he did it so well...!"

Filí smiled, recalling the moment. "And that's when I really understood Lady Galadriel's words to me," he said to Bilbo.

"What…?" Bilbo quirked an eyebrow in surprise, then shook his head. "I knew there was more. Out with it," he teased.

Filí felt his cheeks heat up, wondering now whether he could say it. He looked at their friend with a tinge of embarrassment.

"Well. She said that love endures past all; past pain and death and loss and betrayal," he repeated. "And then she said this: _do not regret the loss of your brother to his lady love. Yours will cross your path very soon...as beautiful to you as coppersmith's art and with a heart as enduring as Aüle's love for his people..."_

Bilbo suppressed a smile. "Elves," he snorted, shaking his head. "Can they never come right out and say something plain?"

Kilí let loose a bark of laughter, and Tauriel looked amused but indignant.

Filí shrugged. "At the time, back in Lorien," he said. "I had no idea what to make of it. It bothered me. I was worried about getting that ruby back to the Blue Mountains and there we were—surrounded by elves…" He threw up his hands, eyes wide with the memory of feeling so strange in a strange land. "Did she think there was another elf who would fancy a dwarf lad? I mean, we weren't likely to run across more dwarves anytime soon." He blinked and shook his head. "Finding a lass is a thing a lad always hopes for, of course. But I'd just never thought on it much…"

Bilbo held up a warning finger. "_Briar_…_?_ Tell me Galadriel did not mean…?"

Filí laughed. "No." He made a face. "_Mahal_, no. That one's a few years from having any interest in lads. And when the time comes," Filí made a fierce eye at Bilbo. "I reckon we'll be guarding that fortress with our axes to keep the Dunedain lads at bay."

Bilbo blinked at this, then laughed. "Sounds like a bedtime story told to children," Bilbo said. "_Briar Rose and the Two Dwarves.._."

Tauriel laughed out loud. "I love it!"

Filí and Kilí stared at her. The protection of a young lass's honor was a rather serious matter to them, but it apparently was not to her.

"So where is she?" Bilbo asked. "Did you leave her down at the Green Dragon?"

Tauriel let out her breath. "She's still under our protection, let me assure you of that. But no—she's off with Arin."

"Arin?" Bilbo waved his pipe to prompt more information.

Kilí laughed. "The one as beautiful as coppersmith's art."

* * *

****A/N Our heartfelt thanks** for reading! Please don't be shy—leave us a quick review or PM if you like. We love to hear from you and it helps us stay focused on getting the chapters out.

**Summerandblue** is a writing team. You can find my stories under **Summerald** and Blue's under **BlueRiverSteel**. Check them out if you haven't already!

**A very good question from a reader: ** "Gimli had loads of trouble [entering Lorien] but Fili and Kili didn't?" Erm...LOL. Honestly, I think that without the presence of an honored and revered elder like Aredhel, they would indeed have had trouble. Also, Gimli visits 80 years later when everyone is MUCH more on edge about the Nine being abroad. Plus, when Gimli enters, he is with Frodo-who is carrying the Ring. My own speculation is that the elves would have been extra prickly from sensing the dark evil carried by the Fellowship, and that might make them extra agitated about the presence of a dwarf... IDK. It's an AU! I invite you to go with it. ;P Appreciate the question tho—good one!

Mahal's Blessings,

**Summer (and Blue!)**


	12. Chapter 12 - An Unforeseen Encounter

**Chapter 12 - An Unforeseen Encounter**

* * *

The days passed in the sort of blur that only occurs when one is travelling constantly. They met no more real trouble all through the Wildlands and into Bree, but journeying anywhere on foot was deathly slow and plodding after the first few days. The travelers busied themselves teaching Briar forestcraft and hunting, telling stories, and training themselves the rest of the way back into fighting form.

It was this stretch of the journey where Kíli noticed his brother truly healing. Away from politicking and scheming and prisons and work schedules, Fíli was improving. His shattered self-image was gradually being rebuilt, and as his physical strength returned in its fullest, so did his sense of humor. He was still quieter than he'd been before the Battle, not so quick to smile; but Kíli breathed easier every time Fíli did something undeniably _himself_.

But not all was roses and fluffy clouds, by any means.

Kíli had grown up the younger of two brothers in Ered Luin. Though the age difference between him and Fíli was considerably less than normal, for dwarves, their roles had been set in stone from the very beginning: Fíli was the elder, the protector, the leader, the intelligence behind their plans and pranks.

But Kíli? Kíli was the mischief, the heart, the rash one who rushed headlong into trouble without thinking twice. And Fíli was always there to rescue him.

He should have known, he thought as he ran toward the shouts, Briar's young angry voice becoming more familiar by the day; he should have known that someday the universe would see fit to give him a taste of his own medicine. Travelling with the young human had been an eye-opening experience for both dwarves—Fíli because he wasn't used to dealing with human females, Kíli because he wasn't used to being the responsible one coming to the aid of the foolhardy one.

The thought gave him a wry smile as he broke through the tree line into the smallish clearing, where it quickly became obvious that unlike last time (_rabid wolf,_ Kíli shivered at the memory), there was no real danger.

Their lass stood, fists raised and face red, before two dwarflings who were smaller than her but definitely no less fierce. Both parties were still shouting.

"We almost had it—!"

"It's not my fault you're a lousy aim!"

"Lousy? He nearly hit _you_!"

"And then you'd _both_ be sorry!"

"Is that a threat?"

"You bet—"

"What is going on?" Kíli roared. All three youngsters jumped, just now noticing the older dwarf who had come charging into the fray, ready to fight off bandits or wolves or orcs…

None of the three had time to answer before Kíli heard Fíli arrive behind him with a growl of his own, almost at the exact same time a dwarrowdam appeared behind the two younger lads, wielding a staff with obvious skill. At her appearance, the dwarflings seemed inclined to start the fighting back up.

"_Namad_, this...this…_girl_ ruined our hunt!" There was disgust behind the words.

"She just came stomping on through here without even a thought and chased off the—"

What, exactly, Briar had chased off, Kíli never learned, as the lass had evidently had enough of words and simply let her fist fly. Before anyone could do a single thing, the smaller of the dwarf lads was sitting in the dirt, looking up at the human lass in shock.

Complete silence.

Then a shout, and Briar found her hands full of two lads determined to neutralize the threat she presented. The adults jumped in scant moments later, pulling angry children off one another until both parties stood facing one another, breathing heavily.

The dwarrowdam had the two younglings by the ears, and Kíli was holding a struggling Briar against his chest, trying to calm the girl.

Which was how he missed Fíli fumbling over his words trying to smooth things over with the other lass.

"Kíli, what?" Tauriel arrived in a swirl of leaves and leather. But he never answered. The dwarrowdam shoved her charges behind her and picked up her staff again, swirling it in a practiced move that left no doubt as to her ability to use it.

"Who are you?" she demanded, and Kíli took a moment to look at her properly.

She was young, Kíli guessed about the same age as him or Fíli. Eyes the color of brandy were narrowed dangerously, and her mass of curly red hair was pulled back in a messy braid. The sparse beard that lined about half of her jaw was braided on each side, small copper beads tying the braids off at the ends. Aside from her staff, Kíli counted three knives on her person, and those were just ones he could see.

Clearly she knew how to take care of herself.

"We're simple travelers," Fíli had finally found his words and had his hands before him in a placating gesture. "Just making our way through Bree, and evidently our girl here interrupted something. We are very sorry."

"She struck my brother," the lass growled.

"Um…" Fíli seemed to be fighting to find the right words, which was rare enough that it got Kíli's attention. "Yes, we…apologize for that."

"_I'm_ not sorry," Briar muttered, and Kíli pinched her shoulder firmly to shut her up.

"Please," Fíli said, giving the lass a tentative smile. "I'm Fíli, this is my brother Kíli. Our friend Tauriel," he gestured to the fiery-haired elf, who had stood down as soon as she realized there was no danger and now nodded meekly from her place beside Kíli. "And this is Briar. I'm _sure_—" he emphasized the word 'sure', giving the girl a measured glare. "—she meant no harm to your brother."

Briar glared right back, but eventually withered under the combined weight of Fíli and Tauriel's stares. "Sorry," she muttered petulantly.

Still wary, the dwarf lass nodded, once. "I'm Arin, these rascals are Tevir and Javir, my brothers." She pulled the elder—Tevir—forward firmly, and the younger followed suit, as though knowing the drill. "They were attempting to hunt for our dinner, and evidently your girl didn't realize. So they thought _starting a fight_ would be an acceptable solution." She glared at both boys until they squirmed, and Kíli bit back a grin at the sight.

"Sorry," the boys chorused nearly in unison, eyes firmly fixed on the grass at their feet.

"You ought to be," Arin said, smacking their heads together solidly. "Now go finish your hunt while I talk to our guests."

Briar squirmed in Kíli's grip, and he turned her by her shoulders so she faced him. "You are all right?" he asked, steely-eyed. The girl shifted and nodded. "Good. Then go with Tauriel and help set up camp for the night."

The elf drew the girl close to her side, flashing a smile at Kíli as they walked away. He returned it, and turned back to Fíli and their new…acquaintance. She still held her staff, though she seemed less threatening without it in an offensive position.

"I am sorry," she said. "My brothers are…a bit _impetuous_. I feel as though half my time goes to digging those lads out of trouble."

Fíli snorted, giving his younger brother a pointed look. "I do know the feeling, lass."

Kíli resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at him.

"But we are also sorry for Briar," Fíli was continuing. "She has recently been through a loss, and we are still new to her. She is quick to anger and unafraid to show it." He shrugged.

Arin nodded. "All is well." She shifted uncertainly for a moment, then added, "I don't suppose either of you know how to fix a broken wagon wheel?"

* * *

"Ahhh," Bilbo smiled, settling back in his chair with his hands on his belly, the picture of leisure. "So Arin was the lass Lady Galadriel spoke of, then?"

"She was indeed, though we didn't know it at the time," Kíli answered for his brother, who was busy trying to tamp down a fierce blush; which Bilbo found highly amusing. "All we knew that day was that we couldn't rightly leave her out there with a broken wagon and only two small dwarflings for protection."

"Though," Fíli cut in, "to be honest, the lass is deadly scary with that staff."

Tauriel laughed, that musical sound again, and said, "As I recall, you nearly were on the receiving end of her skill with it before that day ended."

"It did _nearly_ degenerate into a fight," Fíli snorted, half amused, half indignant. "I was only trying to help."

Bilbo didn't even have to ask anymore, just raised his eyebrows, and Kíli answered.

* * *

"That should last you until you reach the next town," Fíli panted, patting the patched up wheel. "But I think it will need to be replaced."

Arin pursed her lips. "Very well, thank you." Then, apparently done with the conversation, she crossed to one of the wagon storage compartments and opened it, looking inside with a calculating expression.

Kíli raised his eyebrows in a silent question to Fíli, who looked as confused as he. He watched his brother approach the lass carefully.

"Lass?"

"Mmm?" she reached into the compartment and pulled out a small copper pot, turning to face Fíli.

"Are you travelling alone?"

Arin looked up, her expression changing _extraordinarily_ quickly from open and warm to suspicious. "I don't see how that's any of your business," she said coldly, shoving the pot at him. "Take this as payment for your assistance, and leave." Then she walked away around the other side of the wagon.

Fíli blinked, obviously dazed by the change. "What?" Then he looked down at the pot and paused again. "Did you _make_ this?"

"You know, for a dwarf, you ask a lot of questions," Arin appeared again, holding her staff again. Kíli groaned, stepping closer to his brother. He'd thought they were past the whole threatening thing.

"I j-just…" Fíli stuttered.

"He means no harm," Kíli said clearly, wondering at his brother. Fíli was so rarely speechless, and he couldn't figure out what was wrong with him. "We only want to help; it's dangerous out here alone, after all—"

"I'm not alone," Arin growled. "But even if I were, what business is it of yours? I do not need any more of your help. I've paid you for the wheel, now be on your way."

"Please don't do that," Fíli spoke up again, the intensity in his tone surprising Kíli—and evidently Arin too, as she stared at him rather than whipping him with the staff like Kíli was afraid she'd do. "Please. We've lost…" his brother shook his head, obviously trying to gather the right words. Normally Kíli would jump in and cover for him, but he had no idea what Fíli was trying to say. "There has been too much blood shed and too many lives lost that we could not—_did not_—prevent, recently. Let us…travel together. There's safety in numbers, lass, and we can split chores and workloads. Tauriel is a healer, and Kili's an archer, best I've ever seen."

Something in Fíli's tone apparently reached Arin. Her eyes narrowed for a moment before she huffed a small sigh and gave a curt nod. "Fine. But if I get even the smallest notion that you mean to double cross me—" she squeezed her staff til her knuckles turned white.

_Mahal_, Kíli thought. _Don't tweak the dwarf lass' temper_.

But Fíli was nodding, and then they were merging their camps, and the next thing anyone knew, their company was now seven.

Kíli spent several of the ensuing days, with Tauriel's help, running interference between the children. They seemed determined to despise one another; but Tauriel was the only one who could really reach Briar, and both Tevir and Javir held Kíli in the same wide-eyed awe that he'd always reserved for Thorin. The comparison surprised and perplexed him—he was only _himself_, after all, and no legendary displaced King—but he was quick to utilize it to help keep things peaceful between the dwarf lads and the human lassie.

Which left his brother to interact with Arin—a job Kíli was happy to pass off, the lass was far too suspicious and prickly for his taste. Fíli, on the other hand, accepted the task with far more grace and even..._eagerness?..._than Kíli thought was perhaps warranted.

Still, he figured, seeing Fíli deal with anyone besides him and Tauriel without turning dour and sullen was a feat in itself, and he started to respect Arin on that basis alone. Not to mention she was as much a fighter as Tauriel, in her own way. They learned, from small tidbits of conversation (none of the three siblings would talk at length about their story), that their parents had been killed nearly ten years prior at the hand of a massive orc that, by the description, Kíli suspected had been Azog. Since then, Arin had taken over the family coppersmithing business and tried to raise her brothers at the same time. It was a daunting feat, made no easier by the mischievous nature of dwarf lads, which Tevir and Javir had in abundance. Kíli couldn't help but be a little in awe of her.

At least, until _that one evening_ a few weeks after they'd teamed up.

They'd stopped in a verdant little clearing in the woods west of Sarn Ford. Briar and the boys were practicing hand-to-hand combat (finally, _finally_ getting along, since that episode with Javir getting stuck in a ravine and Briar being instrumental to his rescue), their mock-threats and shouts filling the camp. Tauriel had offered to shoot something for dinner, and Kíli was fletching arrows and tending the fire, smiling when Tevir managed to place his brother in a hold the lad would have no hope of escaping.

A feminine giggle reached his ears, and Kíli looked around, unused to the sound—Briar's laugh was higher, and Tauriel's softer.

His gaze found his brother and the dwarf lass not far away, on a small hillock near the stream. Fíli was sitting close to her, just behind, with his arms on either side of Arin as he traced something in her palm. They were both smiling, and he pointed to something near the underside of her knuckle and murmured in her ear, eliciting another laugh from the lass. He was so close her curls were touching his jaw, and Arin seemed not at all bothered by the arrangement, leaning back into his chest and smiling unabashedly.

Kíli turned away, shocked at the way his face heated and his stomach tightened. He swallowed, suddenly a bit sick—what right had she to be so close to Fíli?

But he'd barely asked himself the question before he knew the answer.

_Every right_, he berated himself. _She has every right, if Fee wants her there._

Stricken, he wondered if this was how Fíli felt when he saw Kíli and Tauriel together, if he had unwittingly put his brother through this.

It _wasn't_ a nice feeling. At _all_.

* * *

"It is part of a growing sibling relationship, I think," Bilbo supplied helpfully as Kíli petered off and Fíli squeezed his shoulder encouragingly. "Everyone has to adjust to sharing their brother or sister with another. Well—" he laughed. "Those of us _with_ siblings."

Kíli nodded. "Don't worry, it's all cleared up now. But it did take a little while to get used to the idea. At least I no longer wonder why Fíli had such a hard time at first, with me and Tauriel."

"We did try to make it easier for him," Tauriel spoke up, mischief in her eyes. "_We_ didn't sit around _cuddling_ in broad daylight where he'd have to see it."

Fíli had the grace to blush, which amused Bilbo more than he'd ever admit. He wondered again, quickly, what Thorin would think if he could see his lads now. The thought made him chuckle.

"It was the only way she'd let me near her at first!" Fíli defended himself, while Kíli and Tauriel tried not to snicker. They failed, miserably. Fíli growled in mock irritation.

"_Anyway_, the rest of the journey was rather uneventful," he said. "Arin, the boys, Briar, and Tauriel left us at Mithlond, and Kíli and I continued over the Lune into Ered Luin."

"Home," Kíli grinned. "At last."

The brothers shared a soft smile, until Kíli remembered something that made him laugh again. "It was uneventful until Gandalf showed up, anyway."

Bilbo sat forward, eager to hear this. He had seen neither hide nor hair of Gandalf since the quest to the Mountain, and he was anxious to hear any news at all of the wizard who had changed his life. Fíli and Kíli were busy grinning at each other, enjoying their amusement, and didn't notice the hungry look on the hobbit's face until he clapped his hands impatiently.

"_Well?"_ he demanded. Fíli laughed and took up the tale.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you all** for reading! Don't forget to leave us a quick review or PM if you like. Your opinions feed our muses!

And remember,** Summerandblue** is a writing team! You can find my stories under **BlueRiverSteel** and Summer's under **Summerald** on this site. Check them out!

Cheers!

**Blue (And Summer!)**


	13. Chapter 13 - An Unforeseen Friend

**Chapter 13 - An Unforeseen Friend**

"Four ales," Fíli ordered as he and Kíli took seats at a square table near the hearth. _The Haunch and Tankard _was a decidedly dwarven establishment, predictably crowded and rowdy. It sat on the outskirts of Duillond and catered to the miner lads, though enough itinerant traders came through to make two traveling lads unremarkable.

It's not like anyone recognized them. In times past, they had visited wearing the crests and fine accoutrements of princes.

Their gear had long since changed to a mish-mash of utilitarian leather and practical weapons.

Fíli downed his first ale in one long draft. He banged it on the table, looked up to see Kíli's level stare, and started on the second.

The barmaid took the empty. "We're servin' Pot-O-Wild-Boar Haunch this week, lads."

"Two," Kíli said.

When the barmaid didn't move, Fíli huffed and reached into his inside pocket for coin. He laid five coppers on the table with a slap.

"Seven," the barmaid said.

Kíli's eyes widened. "Seven? Since when is it seven…?"

The barmaid, hand on hip, scowled at him. "Since we says so."

Fíli narrowed his eyes but added the two extra coppers. "I suspect we got a better deal last time," he muttered to Kíli when the surly barmaid left. "People always favored Thorin…"

"So just tell them who we are," Kíli said. "There's no shame in…"

"No," Fíli thumped his ale mug on the table. "It's better this way. The last thing we need is a hundred gossips spreading the word that we've been spotted." Besides, Fíli decided, he was in no mood to sing and tell stories. As he looked around, the place seemed grubby and coarse. And as he watched, the barmaid took serving pots to the hearth and dished up their wild boar stew and his eye was caught by the bright copper ladle with its well-turned hook.

Copper.

Arin.

He swallowed more ale. He'd farewelled the lass three days ago, leaving her along with Tauriel and the youngsters back in Shire lands. Tauriel was hoping to track down the rumor that others of her kind might be found near Woodhall.

Arin was off to sell her bowls and kettles at the Tinker's Faire in Stock.

_Coppersmith_. The lass had hands that knew metal, a mind that understood the subtleties of fire, and an eye for form and balance.

But did she have an eye for him? _Could_ she have an eye for him?

And why could he not forget her? Her laugh, her wild curly hair...her eyes—especially when they looked at him and went all soft.

_Mahal. _ No one ever told him this was what it felt like to meet a lass and want more than just her friendship.

Five ales later he was well past pleasantly buzzed and headlong into sloshed. He had watched Kíli fetch more ale from the bar, join a round of lusty singing with a trio of miners wearing North End Mine colors, then take a turn at a dice game, soundly losing two coppers before winning three back with a roar of triumph.

By the time his brother made it back to their table, Fíli had gone from resting his chin in his hand to putting his head down on his arm.

"You look soooo lovesick," Kíli teased, tugging on Fíli's braids. "Wait 'til I tell that lass what she's done to my _nadad_. You're pining for her…!"

Fíli replied with a fist to his brother's arm. Kíli only laughed and set the latest ale mug as far from Fíli as he could place it. "You've had enough, Fee. In fact," he said, getting his hand under Fíli's arm and leveraging him to his feet. "I think it's time to get some fresh air."

The room swam and Fíli found himself pointed toward the oil lamp at the pub's front door. Inexplicably, it was moving toward him, then sharp, cold night air surrounded him just before he felt Kíli's hand on the back of his head and the icy sting of water on his face.

"Mahal's _ass!_" he spat at his brother, pushing away from the water trough, suddenly more sober. He shook his wet hair with an angry growl, hooked Kíli's knee with his boot, and tipped his brother sideways. Kíli was half-dunked before he could stop himself and came up spitting.

"Mind if I join you?"

Both brothers looked up to see a tall, grey-cloaked figure staring down at them. "Or should I introduce myself?"

Fíli realized he was staring with his braids dripping and his mouth open. Kíli sputtered in surprise.

"We know who you are…" Kíli managed a hoarse whisper.

"And a good thing I know you," Gandalf said, frowning at them. "Despite the fact you both look like woebegone water rats. What your uncle would say to learn that the lads he raised to be Durin-tough warriors were wallowing in a Duillond pony trough…"

Fíli felt his face heat in embarrassment, his head still swimming slightly as he tried to piece things together.

"Gandalf," he said with relief.

* * *

Bilbo was laughing. "Isn't that just like him—showing up at the most awkward moment…"

Kíli grinned. "Exactly. Fíli went green. I thought he would…"

Fíli coughed. "We can spare the details," he said. "Needless to say, Gandalf was the last person I expected to see that night."

"It can't have been coincidence, though," Bilbo said. "Finding you in an obscure pub deep in the Blue Mountains."

"Wasn't," Kíli said. He and Tauriel were threading their fingers together again.

Bilbo nearly rolled his eyes. He wondered if he should shoo them off to a guest room. He looked back at Fíli, who winked at him.

"Gandalf had been tipped off, of course," Fíli said. "Lady Galadriel."

"I never met her. Is she much like Elrond?"

"A little," Fíli said, but Tauriel gasped at this.

"She is Noldor," she said as if scandalized. "One of the Eldar. Not half-elven."

"Yes," Fíli nodded, stretching his legs out and crossing his ankles. "She is ethereal where Elrond is more…" he frowned, searching for the right word.

"Grounded," Bilbo supplied.

"That'll do," Fíli agreed. "She sent him word right after we passed through her lands. He said he instantly decided to track us down and see for himself."

"That you were alive?" Bilbo asked.

Fíli nodded.

"And he wanted to hear from us the same story we just told you," Kíli added. "Thranduil and Dain."

"And what did he say about that?" Bilbo demanded. "Is he marching right back there and knocking a few heads together? I mean, if you ask me…"

"No," Fíli said.

Bilbo stared. "No…?"

"No. We had a long chat, Gandalf and us. He had a lot to say—which is quite rare."

Kíli was grinning now. "And he gave us a better plan…"

"One we quite like," Fíli added.

* * *

Gandalf demanded and received _The Haunch and Tankard's_ private room. Instead of the surly serving lass, they were shown in by a serious fellow who had the look of retired Guard. He saw them seated by the fire with a full pouch of Shire-grown pipeweed and a pot of strong dark tea. Gandalf had taken one good look at Fíli and foregone any offers of more ale.

"Drink that down," he said, sipping from his own cup. "And you'll feel more steady."

And then the brothers took up the story and told Gandalf everything they knew, though they may have downplayed their feelings toward a pair of certain lasses.

"Thranduil's changed," Gandalf said after they'd finished. He sat lost in thought, puffing on his pipe, the firelight making his glower look more fearsome than usual. "Time out of memory is not always a good thing," he added. "He's had too many years of strife to be entirely reasonable these days. Try not to take it personally…" He spared them a sympathetic glance. "And it may just be that he's done you a favor."

"A _favor_?" Kíli's voice was as deep as Thorin's, his glare stone cold.

"Yes," Gandalf said, though he would not meet Kíli's eyes. "Thanks to him, the world thinks you're dead—that the line of Thror, King under the Mountain, has been wiped out."

"Particularly the world of orcs and goblins," Fíli guessed.

Gandalf's expression became more grave. "And the world of darker evils than that." He puffed several times. "We saw the awakening...at Dol Guldur. Sauron returns, is gaining strength even as we sit here leagues away."

Fíli heard nothing but the crackling fire for a long minute.

"He would use you against your kind and indeed, against all free peoples of Middle Earth. Blood of Durin...he would enslave you even if you sat inside that mountain with Thrain's Raven Crown upon your head, Fíli, sister-son of Thorin Oakenshield. And he would _have_ you."

Kíli looked up then, eyes round.

"Having survived, the two of you must go to ground. Heed me in this."

"You mean hide? Like we're a couple of cowards…?" Fíli felt his face heat, his temper rising.

"No. I mean stay out of sight—protect your brother and live to fight another day." His hard-eyed countenance looked from Fíli to Kíli and back. "And I'm of the mind that you can be immensely useful to the new alliance that we will have to form. Men and elves will have to renew their friendships and learn to trust each other again."

"And dwarves? What will dwarves do?"

Gandalf smiled at Fíli. "What you do best." He leaned forward. "Fire up your forges and put your skills to work. The northlands have several thousand Dunedain to lend to the coming war. You," he pinned Fíli with a steady eye. "Have the skill to arm them with the kind of blades only a blooded Son of Durin can make—the kind that will be strong enough to meet our new enemy head-on."

Fíli raised one eyebrow. "One needs an extraordinary forge to make extraordinary blades. I would need Erebor."

Gandalf smiled. "Or its equal."

"What?" Kíli asked. "You can't mean Nogrod or Belegost. Those forges were destroyed…"

"By the elves," Gandalf said. "Yes. No, lads. I'm talking about the forge of the Westernesse...the forge built by Elendil's people. There are no swordsmiths among the Dunedain with the mastery of their forefathers. But, you, lads...you learned everything Thorin Oakenshield ever knew about Durin's own craft."

Fíli drew breath, understanding now what Gandalf was suggesting. "And you think we two could re-arm the Dunedain? It will take years…"

Gandalf sat back. "Yes, my dear Fíli lad, I daresay it will. And you'll need help, and apprentices, and sons of your own to train into the craft."

Kíli was looking at him now. "It's Thorin's way of having the last word," he said quietly.

Fíli stared. Kíli so rarely had that level of insight that it made him pause. "Yes. It would be at that…"

"So we go to Annúminas and we restart this forge," Kíli summed up.

Gandalf raised his eyebrows with a deceptively innocent expression.

"Oh, don't tell me," Fíli said. "What—a dragon's moved in?"

Gandalf shrugged. "I wouldn't say a _dragon_, necessarily…"

* * *

Bilbo stood.

Fíli looked up, brows drawn in concern.

"No. Noooooo," he held up a finger and then took one step toward his front door. He stopped, made a quarter turn, and then shoved his hands in his pockets. "No. Absolutely not, don't even say it."

Fíli looked at his hands, then shrugged. "We had to ask, you understand."

With that, Bilbo turned on his heel and stomped back into his hobbit hole, slamming the door behind him.

Fíli listened to the crickets chirping. Kíli and Tauriel sat in silence.

"I told you he wouldn't take it well," she finally murmured.

"Give him time," Kíli said.

Fíli looked at the quiet Shire night, admiring the peacefulness even as he waited. Sure enough, Bilbo came back out of his front door with as much fury as he'd had going in.

"I _understand_," Bilbo said, marching up to him with more feistiness than Fíli had expected. "That dwarves have paid me a visit, eaten my food, taken," he drew breath to fuel his rant, "my hospitality...only to propose the most preposterous…"

"And courageous," Fíli put in.

"Impossible," Bilbo went on.

"And honorable," Kíli added. "Likely profitable and even adventurous..."

"_Crazy-ass_ journey." Bilbo stared, hands on his hips, waistcoat flapping, and his frown deep and set.

"Are you with us?" Fíli asked.

"Wouldn't miss it."

* * *

****A/N Our heartfelt thanks** for reading! Please don't be shy—leave us a quick review or PM if you like. We love to hear from you and it helps us stay focused on getting the chapters out.

**Summerandblue** is a writing team. You can find my stories under **Summerald** and Blue's under **BlueRiverSteel**. Check them out if you haven't already!

If you want to see some of the amazing fanart that has inspired us for this story, I've started a Wayfarers board on my Pinterest page...just google "summer alden pinterest" and it should come up. It's the Wayfarers board. There's a great lovesick Fili... ;D

Mahal's Blessings,

**Summer (and Blue!)**


	14. Chapter 14 - Inheritance Gained

**Chapter 14—Inheritance Gained **

* * *

"This is absolutely mad," Bilbo muttered to himself, still pacing a full minute after agreeing to accompany them. "Stark raving _mad_, I can't believe I'm agreeing to this again…"

"And yet here we are," Kíli smirked, and Tauriel elbowed him as if to say _don't try our luck. _ The dwarf just cocked an eyebrow in amusement at the agitated hobbit. He nodded at Fíli, who seemed to share his amusement more than Tauriel did, and they just watched Bilbo pace for a few minutes.

Finally, it was Fíli who took pity on their friend, reaching out and placing a hand on the hobbit's shoulder.

"Bilbo, there is yet one more part to this story you haven't yet heard," Fili cut in gently. "And while it hasn't much to do with our new quest, we…" he flicked his gaze to Kíli and then back, "we think you'll want to hear it anyway."

Something in Fili's tone got Bilbo's attention, and he stopped moving long enough to glance between the two lads, one serious and the other grinning. He ran a hand through his short curls with a huff, forcibly calming himself. "Very well, yes, tell me the rest."

Kíli sat back, clapped his hands once, and answered. "Well Gandalf had given us a mission, but we had yet to finish the one we were on."

"The ruby," Bilbo's eyes were wide with understanding.

The younger Durin nodded. "That's right, the Heart of Durin. We returned it to its rightful owner."

* * *

There were few things in life of which Kíli thought he was certain anymore, but this was one of them: he would never forget the day he finally returned to Thorin's Halls in Ered Luin after a nearly two-year absence.

He and Fíli made the two-day journey from Duillond to Thorin's Halls in just over one; they decided to forego making camp at all the second night, the leagues melting away beneath tired feet. Both lads knew they couldn't keep up such a pace for long, but neither felt like sleeping. The terrain changed quickly as dawn neared, the river valley giving way to rugged foothills. Fíli and Kíli skirted these as much as they could, intimately familiar with the territory enough to know safe paths through the hills.

Just as the sun rose, they topped the final rise and looked out over the small valley.

"Fee," Kíli whispered, stunned by the sheer relief that floored him then. Fíli squeezed his shoulder and gave a breathless laugh. The sun cast golden light on the mountain face that housed their childhood home. The carved Main Gate stood proud—not quite as ornate as Erebor, but every bit as elegant—and the sounds of a waking city reached them even from over a mile away.

Kíli had to bite his lip hard to resist the urge to drop his pack and run the last mile. Beside him, Fíli seemed to be struggling against the same instinct, so Kíli laughed out loud and pulled him forward by the arm.

"Come on, _nadad_, Mother awaits us!"

Of course, Kíli had been slightly wrong about _that_; Dis had not, in fact, been waiting for them at all. The only correspondence she had received from Dain regarding her boys was a missive just after the battle telling her they were lost; so when the doors to her receiving chambers were unceremoniously slammed open, followed by three very out-of-breath dwarves—a guard and two young lads—the Princess of Ered Luin was momentarily shocked into silence.

First it was by the complete lack of decorum, but the moment her gaze settled on the intruders, her rebuke died on numb lips, and she simply stared.

_Mahal, she's beautiful,_ was all Kíli's overwhelmed brain could manage.

They stood, all three, facing one another for nearly a full minute before Fíli spoke.

"Mama?"

The single word echoed in the completely silent chamber, snapped Kíli's attention to his brother for a moment. He hadn't heard such vulnerability from Fíli toward anyone but him since…well before they left on the Quest.

Dis made a distressed noise and all three Durins began moving toward one another at once. They met in a tangled heap of limbs and reassurances.

"How is this possible?"

"Ma, we're here…"

"_Mahal_, we missed you!"

"Dain said—"

"He was misinformed."

"He didn't send you another letter after he found out—?"

"No…"

Fíli growled a vicious insult in Khuzdul that made their mother gasp and pinch his ear hard, while Kíli laughed.

Finally they all pulled away, Dis holding them at arm's length. "Let me look at you," she said, blinking back tears. Kíli grinned at his brother as they stood and let her look them over, head to toe. "You look well enough," she finally declared, sounding a little surprised.

Fíli smiled warmly. "You don't think we'd let each other starve, do you?"

Kíli snickered. "I'm sure it has less to do with that and more to do with the three weeks we spent traveling with a lass who can actually _cook_."

Fíli blushed in spite of himself, glaring at his brother as Dis cocked an eyebrow. She did not take Kíli's bait, however, but smiled at both her boys and drew them toward her private receiving chamber, motioning to her guards on the way out.

"Tell me everything," she said.

Chairs were brought and they covered the basics, including the horror of Thorin's death. She deserved to know, Kíli felt. When they'd conveyed what they'd seen and added the details they'd heard from Ori, she stood and walked apart. They let her reflect on her brother's death—on the gold sickness and his sacrifice.

"It is better, I think, that we stay away from Erebor," she said quietly, after several moments. "I would not challenge Dain's right to rule it. He may have it and all its cursed history."

Kili was silent, aware that she mourned her beloved brother. She turned back to them with a sad smile. "And my heart is glad that the Mountain does not have _you_."

She held out her arms then, embraced them both one more time and dried her damp cheeks as she chivvied them into baths, ordered up a feast with all their familiar, favorite foods, and called for a roaring fire in her hall's hearth. Hours later, after much storytelling and impossibly full stomachs, they sat in plush chairs by the fire and it was Fíli who cleared his throat.

"We are not staying," Fili told her gently. "Gandalf feels we'll just attract assassins and orcs; and if Ered Luin is to have any peace, we should not linger here."

Kíli watched his mother's expression go from stunned to indignant to understanding. She said nothing, then chose her words carefully. "Thorin would have had you ruling in his place—if not in Erebor, then here. He was of the opinion that it was the line of Durin's honor and duty."

Kíli found himself grinning.

His mother looked at him, brows drawn. He knew she sometimes doubted his sense of propriety—or lack of it. But Kíli didn't care.

"Thorin's sense of honor and duty is one reason we're here," Fíli said with more gravity. He reached into an inner pocket, and holding something carefully in both hands, stood to go down on one knee before his mother.

"He gave this to me, for you." Fíli opened his hands, revealing the faceted, deep red ruby, sparkling and glowing as if lit from within.

Their mother gasped. "Is that…?"

"The Heart of Durin," Fíli confirmed. "Balin and Gandalf both recognized it. It lay in that dragon horde all this time. Thorin found it. By rights, it belongs only to you."

As Kili watched, her amazement turned to sadness. She reached out and lightly touched the ruby with two gentle fingers.

"Don't worry," Fíli murmured. "I cleansed it of dragon stench in the sacred waters of Mirrormere."

Her wide eyes went from one son to the other. Kíli nodded. "We were there. I watched him do it."

Fíli took her hand then, carefully transferring the red jewel to his mother. "Thorin meant for you to claim the throne of Ered Luin," he said. "If that's what you want."

Kíli watched them look at each other and he could see his mother struggle with the idea. Abruptly she stood.

"I raised _you_ to rule after Thorin…" she whispered to his brother.

Fíli stood and shook his head. "My path lies elsewhere. I know this." His hands came around hers and closed over the ruby. "The Heart of Durin bestows the right to rule to the Daughters of his line…"

Kili stepped forward to stand beside his brother. "And your willing heart is just as loyal," he said to her. "Just as honorable."

Their mother's eyes were moist with tears again. "I wonder that I am dreaming. Both of you, appearing from out of nowhere when you'd been reported…" She shook her head. "And now this?"

"Gandalf," Kíli said gently. "Says to expect him here before the next full moon. He intends to see you crowned in a royal ceremony…so start planning." His mother blinked at him and he smiled. On impulse, Kili wrapped his arms around her, pressing his forehead to hers. "_Amad_…you always worried that we were following Thorin and not our true destinies in life. But now…"

She leaned toward Kíli, one hand cupping his jaw. "But you will be so alone…"

Fíli barked a laugh. "Alone? We have each other. We'll be surrounded by Dunedain."

Kíli nodded and his smile went shy. "And our _amrâmilê_…"

Their mother's eyes went round and Fíli quickly filled her in.

As Kili watched, she quickly embraced his brother. "I begin to see Mahal's purpose,"she said. "Your coppersmith will Choose you and you will marry her. She will bear the next Daughter of Durin and inherit this stone." She held out the ruby that they had brought her. "After all, I am past the time that I might bear a daughter, even if your father were still here."

They all looked at each other in silence for a moment.

Then she smiled. "I will pledge this to you, my golden son," she said to Fíli. "I will claim Ered Luin, and when my time is done, this stone will pass to your own daughter—to the child of my firstborn, blood of my blood."

Fíli looked down at the stone in her hand, then kissed her hand and nodded, as if accepting the responsibility. How he would explain this to Arin, Kíli did not know.

Then she turned to him, yet Kíli wasn't entirely sure how she was taking the news about Tauriel. He held his breath.

"Do you know," she said with sudden lightness. "That old Egil—my mother's grandfather's brother—lived his days beside a lass named Guilin, elf of Eregion? I know naught more of her than her name and I've no idea whether she still lives. Perhaps your Tauriel knows."

"You are not angry with me?" Kíli murmured, eyes wide.

His mother gave him one of those tolerant _really?_ tilts of her head and snorted. "You are alive because of her. She has earned a place my heart, _inùdoy_. Someday, I would meet her."

* * *

Bilbo was smiling unabashedly. "Oh lads, you made it back to your Mother. That is…" he petered off, unable to put into a single word what was racing through his mind and heart. But they were both nodding and Tauriel had a radiant smile on her face, and he knew they knew exactly what he meant.

"It is," Kíli agreed. "It was a truly delightful four days we spent there with her."

"I'm sure I can't imagine ever leaving her again, were I in your position," Bilbo added, brow furrowed. Both lads shrugged at that.

"We couldn't stay; it was bad enough that the guards who found out started the gossip mill within _minutes_ of our arrival," Fíli said. "Mother had to make an announcement asking them all to remain silent on the matter, making them understand that our survival must stay secret from our enemies and even most of our allies."

"So we stayed," Kíli said, "Just long enough to see her instated as Queen of Ered Luin officially, Heart of Durin in hand, and then we left." Kíli stopped and looked at his brother. "We'll establish a line of communication and trade as soon as we get the forge up and running. We'll not be out of contact like we've been the last couple of years. Mother found that an..._acceptable_ arrangement."

Fíli laughed at that, and added, "It took a bit of convincing for her to let us go, it's true."

"I hardly blame her," Bilbo muttered, and his guests nodded in agreement. There was silence for a few moments, punctuated only by the sound of the crickets singing in the early dark. Kíli and Tauriel sat on the grass, fingers still tangled together as they seemed to hold a private conversation with only their eyes. Fíli leaned back against the ivy-strewn wall behind the garden bench, looking up at the stars, and Bilbo stood against his small wooden fence, studying them all.

They seemed so much more peaceful than they'd been only hours ago when they arrived; a bit peaked and travel-worn still, to be sure; but as though a weight had been lifted, and it occurred to him how much they had counted on his acceptance of them and agreement to accompany them on their journey.

As if he could've said no.

He straightened a moment later, a question occurring to him. "But you were alone in Ered Luin, you two," he looked at Kíli and Fíli, who smiled. "When did you meet up with Tauriel again? What of Arin, Briar, and the boys? Where are they?"

* * *

**A/N: Thank you thank you thank you** for reading and following! We appreciate each of you more than we can say! Don't forget to leave a quick review or PM if you feel so inclined-we love hearing your opinions and feedback!

Don't forget **Summerandblue** is a writing team! You can check out our individual work at **summerald** and **BlueRiverSteel** on this site.

We definitely put the "co" in "co-writing" this chapter, as we wrote it together, rather than our usual practice of switching off chapters, so...credit where it's due, we _both_ worked on this particular chapter!

Cheers to all of you,

**Blue and Summer!**


	15. Chapter 15 - Matters of the Heart

**Chapter 15 - Matters of the Heart**

Bilbo packed and unpacked his knapsack. They would be meeting Arin, her brothers, and young Briar halfway to Long Cleeve, near Oatbarton. Half a day's journey, really. And they'd leave on the morrow. He added a second waistcoat that he was certain he'd need...then fished it back out and admonished himself. _Extra waistcoats...you're traveling with dwarves. They hardly care about such things._

He'd seen the lads off to bed, too well-mannered to ask much detail about the sleeping arrangements. He'd simply offered two guest rooms and then stared at his guests, imagining he could hear Thorin's growl of a comment at the idea that one of his nephews might be...well, most likely was...actually, it wasn't _quite_ his concern whether…

But Tauriel had rather serenely good-nighted him and murmured something about one last look at the stars, leaving him and the two lads facing each other awkwardly in the hallway.

Neither brother gave anything away by their expressions. They simply looked expectantly at him.

"Yes, well...in the morning, I hope we have time for at least one breakfast," Bilbo said, finding refuge in menu planning. "I've got plenty of eggs and no use leaving them behind to rot…"

Fíli and Kíli nodded.

"And I can whip up scones to take along…and pack the cheeses."

They nodded again.

"And...what should we bring along for…?" Why was he suddenly so awkward about the elf-maiden? Bilbo frowned at himself and cleared his throat. "For Tauriel?"

The brothers looked at each other in confusion, then back at him.

"Ah, I wouldn't trouble yourself," Fíli said.

Kíli shrugged. "She feeds herself according to whatever strikes her fancy."

Fíli smiled. "Unpredictable."

"Entirely," Kíli added. "She sees dandelions, she'll eat dandelions." His happy grin was nothing short of truly infatuated.

Bilbo tilted his head, wondering how a person could survive on nothing but foraged greens.

"Hot water," Fíli offered. "She might make herself some tea."

Bilbo raised his eyebrows.

It was Kíli's turn to shrug. "Elf."

Bilbo suppressed a smile and nodded. "All right then. I take it you lads could use a bit of a lie in. Say, 'til mid-morning?"

Kíli's sudden frown reminded Bilbo so much of Thorin that he couldn't help feeling a slight pang in his heart. He'd loved Thorin, in his own way. No sense denying it.

"Sunrise," Fíli said. "We'll be up."

"Besides," Kíli brightened and winked. "We'll be off to introduce you to the rest of our little company." He grinned now, glancing at his brother with a bit of cheekiness. "Can't be late for that."

Bilbo smiled then. "I see. Well, it's eggs and tea at sunrise, then." He'd nodded to them and excused himself before he got teary eyed and embarrassed himself. Besides, there was so very much to do if he was to have breakfast ready and his knapsack packed.

He'd hurried to his own rooms and opened three different trunks before locating his pack and upending it to clear the remains of his last over-nighter to Buckland.

And then the tears fell and he searched three pockets before finding his handkerchief.

* * *

Fíli was up at sunrise, as promised. Earlier than sunrise, actually. As he washed up and shook out his mop of hair, he had a sudden realization and stopped, looking at himself in the dressing mirror of his Bag End guest room.

_I can't believe we told Bilbo the whole story yesterday. _ He looked at himself as if he'd not really done that in a long while. He was not the same lad who'd been here two years ago for that fateful party. _We didn't even tell Ma the whole story, _he confessed. Couldn't, he told himself. She'd be too upset and that was not their intention. Thorin wanted her to have the Ruby and follow her own destiny.

Done.

And now? This morning? _This morning it all seems like it happened to someone else...or that it was some kind of vivid nightmare…_

At the sound of a doorknob turning, Fíli started, his right hand on one of his falchions before he knew it.

He aimed the weapon straight at the door.

"Hmph!" Bilbo squeaked, eyebrows up. He stood stock still with an armload of towels and went cross-eyed looking at the wicked-sharp point of Fíli's blade.

"Sorry," Fíli muttered, dropping his guard and looking down. "I wasn't…"

"...expecting someone at the door with towels?" Bilbo's frank expression met his as the hobbit shook his head. "Ohhhh, my fault," he said, shouldering his way in. "I should have known to give you more warning," he shook his head. "It's not as if I don't know that a dwarf would have a blade at the ready…more than one, if I know you."

To Fíli, it seemed as though Bilbo forced a smile. He ran a hand across his face. "I am sorry, Bilbo. Very poor manners on my part." And Fíli's heart sank as he said it. Here was the telltale difference between the lad he'd been and now. Somewhere in the last two years he'd become suspicious of everyone...even a hobbit that he knew as a friend.

Bilbo put down his stack of towels and reached for Fíli's shoulders.

"Would you allow me?" Bilbo asked, but then didn't wait for the answer and pulled Fíli into an close embrace.

Fíli didn't usually let his feelings come to the forefront, but something about Bilbo's gesture made him hug the hobbit in return. They stood there a moment, and Fíli swallowed hard.

Bilbo pulled back, smacked him on the arm, and shook his head.

"You've had a hard road. Any other fellows might have given themselves up to a lesser fate, but not you." Bilbo smiled. "Your uncle would be proud. I know it."

Fíli didn't agree and shook his head. "I hear Thorin's voice in my head every single night, berating me to go back and take Erebor…"

Bilbo huffed. "Why? What's there for you now?"

"Thorin's birthright." There. The great guilty knot in his gut was finally laid bare.

Bilbo held up a finger. "Thorin's birthright, Fíli," he said with firm certainty. "His. Not yours. What happened there happened to _him_. You and your brother did everything…" He paused, made a face to hide his emotions, and then went on. "You did _everything_ Thorin expected and more." Bilbo shook his head. "That Mountain is cursed, Fíli. It's better, believe me, if you and Kíli stay away and never go back there. Gandalf is right. There is a better calling for you both and he's telling you to keep fighting the forces of Sauron-but just in a different way."

Fíli felt himself staring.

"I believe what Gandalf asks," Bilbo said, his face set in a grim expression. "Is the right path for you and your brother. And I will help you on that path," he said.

Fíli smiled slowly. He didn't quite know why Bilbo's support and acceptance mattered to him, but it did. He reached out, put one hand on each of Bilbo's shoulders, and pulled the hobbit close again, this time leaning forward to touch foreheads as he might have done with Thorin in times long past.

"Oh, lad," Bilbo said with a slight tremor in his voice. "He did love you. Very much...but be free of him," Bilbo's voice cracked. "And follow your own heart."

* * *

An hour later, they were well on their way to Oatbarton, riding ponies under a bright blue Shire sky full of morning birds. Kíli rode behind his brother and wondered about Fíli's mood.

He was back to silent, brooding, pensive Fíli: the Fíli of Thranduil's prison and Dain's work schedules. Fíli's focus and drive, the thing that had gotten them from Lorien to Ered Luin, was gone.

"Bilbo's enjoying himself," Kíli commented, riding forward to speak with his brother. He nodded to Bilbo's pony ahead, where Tauriel paced along on foot, conversing easily with the hobbit as they went.

"Huh," Fíli grunted.

Kíli waited for more but his brother remained quiet.

"Your mind's a thousand leagues away this morning," he said finally, recognizing his brother's worried look. _What could he possibly have to be…?_

Then Kíli saw Tauriel laughing with Bilbo and grinned at the sight of her so happy and carefree. And then it hit him. Fíli deserved the same kind of friendship that he and Tauriel had.

"Have you decided to do it?" Kíli asked, guessing Fíli's worry. "Ask Arin to come with us?"

Fíli looked grim. "It's not without risk," he said, firmly. "We don't know what we'll find in Annuminas, and I've no right to ask her to put herself and her brothers in danger."

Kíli smiled. So he was right...his brother was fretting over Arin the Coppersmith. A lass. A young, likely one. Why not? He forced himself to seriousness. "What you _don't _have the right to do," he nodded toward Tauriel and Bilbo. "Is make that decision for her."

Kíli clucked to his pony then and jogged forward to ride beside Tauriel, leaving Fíli to stew on the matter.

* * *

They made it to Oatbarton just past midday. Bilbo nodded and smiled to the local hobbits, most of whom simply lifted a finger and nodded in salute. They didn't seem too surprised to see dwarves or an elf in the Shire, given that both peoples crossed hobbit lands from time to time, journeying to the Grey Havens or on to Ered Luin. Seeing them traveling together might raise eyebrows in some parts of Middle Earth, but Kíli was always pleased to see how much hobbits ignored the rest of Middle Earth.

That was a good thing, he decided, for a dwarf lad who was in love with an elf maiden, and it made his heart glad to realize that he and Tauriel might really find acceptance and refuge on the Shire's northern border.

He was also glad to see his brother brighten and lose his gloomy mood the moment they saw Arin's travel wagon camped alongside a merry stream just north of town. Kíli saw Arin's bright curls in the sunlight, one hand shading her eyes as she looked at them, and then Fíli was off his pony and striding for her.

Kíli dismounted and held Bilbo's pony for him while he climbed off. They smiled at each other like conspirators and watched.

Fíli stopped just in front of Arin and bowed deeply. "A pleasure to meet again, my good Mastersmith." Mastersmith, of course, referred to her skill level, not her gender.

She smiled and returned the honor. "Well met, my lord Fíli." Fíli looked embarrassed by the title, but it was technically correct. Fíli straightened and looked awkward a moment, then found refuge in turning toward them and introducing Bilbo, who nodded and came forward with a huge hobbity grin.

"I do believe I purchased my best copper ladles from you. You were at the Tinker's Faire in Tuckborough about five years back?"

Arin nodded and inclined her head, hand on heart.

"You make the ones with the twist and the curly hook?"

In reply, Arin opened the lid to a box on the side of the wagon and produced one of her hand-hammered copper ladles.

"Ah!" Bilbo laughed. "Just the very kind! Your work is considered top notch, you know. I would tell anyone who asked."

Kíli watched his brother beaming with pride and grinned. Tauriel caught his eye and he winked at her. He wasn't about to say anything silly—Fíli would smack him good if he interfered. So he quietly went about tending the ponies, loosening the packs and settling them in a pile. Tauriel helped with the unsaddling, and as Kíli made the rounds with a hoof pick, she measured oats and grain into nosebags for them.

Not long after, young Briar and Arin's two brothers returned with a trio of rabbits for the stew pot, and Kíli made a point of admiring their hunting skills—they were all three much better with bows under his tutelage—and after leading the ponies to the stream for water, he helped skin and chop rabbit for the stew pot.

A lad from one of the local pubs rode up while they finished setting up camp, bringing Arin a large copper stock pot with a warped lid and entering into a detailed discussion of repair with her.

Arin held up the lid and assessed the problem. "Did old Cobber throw this at a muffin thief again?"

The lad looked sheepish.

"Shouldn't take long," she said, then, nodding for the lad to return in the morning.

Bilbo took out his pipeweed for a smoke, and Kíli stood to see if he could help Arin with her small forge—she used the kind of flat burner and hand cranked fan common for a travelling blacksmith, but Fíli waved him off.

Kíli nodded and suppressed a smile. Fíli wanted to be the one to assist, he realized. He hoped Fili would enjoy himself.

"Care to help me find some greens?" Tauriel's whisper was close to his ear and Kíli felt his heart leap. "I saw miner's lettuce downstream a bit." She didn't give him a chance to answer and grabbed his hand.

Kíli decided that time looking for greens with his lady elf was far more interesting than pot repair. When they returned a good two hours later, the little camp was infused with smell of a comforting, sharp _okhgir: _a scent not unlike the air just before lightning strikes and so common to a forge.

Tauriel wrinkled her nose at it, but Kíli breathed deep. It was a calming, earthy smell to any dwarf.

Briar and Bilbo announced that dinner was served, and they all helped themselves. Tauriel enjoyed a salad of greens and pine nuts mixed with berries, but Fíli and Arin stayed at the forge.

Kíli found a seat next to Bilbo where they could watch the smithing work, and they munched on stew and hearth biscuits as the sun set. Fíli and Arin continued to heat and work metal in the open air, their faces lit by glowing orange coals. Fíli had long since tied his hair back and shed his shirt and vest, and he worked bare-armed with only a leather apron for protection. It revealed the chunky blue tattoo of his prince's sigil on his right shoulder and bicep, and Kíli wondered at his brother's motive.

Then he considered Arin—her hair was also piled high in a curly mass, her sleeves rolled up and her collar open more than usual, showing off a good hint of the female form within, her arms sleekly sinewed where Fíli's were sculpted muscle.

Kíli tried not to snort at them.

"I would have thought they'd be done by now," Bilbo said, frowning at the two dwarves.

"With the pot lid?" Kíli asked between bites. "Yes. They're up to something else there." He said it casually, staying focused on his dinner. As he watched, they each quenched something very hot and steam rose in a small billowing cloud. Tauriel, he noticed, paid them no mind and was busy listening to (or distracting) Briar on the topic of her hunt, the lasses' words interrupted constantly by the two younger lads.

"What...what do you mean?" Bilbo asked. "Are they making more wares to sell? Because I don't know that there will be much business between here and the lake. Maybe a few inquiries when we pass through Long Cleeve…"

Kíli smirked. "I think they're up to something else," he said, taking a last bite of biscuit and chewing.

"Something else?" Bilbo put his spoon down, glanced at Kíli, then back to Fíli and Arin.

As they looked, the two smiths stopped and each one checked the cooled pieces of work they held in their open palms.

"Watch," Kíli said. "Here's the moment."

"The moment…? For what?" Bilbo frowned, but he sat still, observing the two at the forge.

The forge fire crackled, the light danced across their faces, and together, Fíli and Arin held out their offerings and locked eyes, looking at each other rather than at their work.

Kíli held his breath.

Fíli stood motionless.

Slowly, almost shyly, Arin put her open hand next to Fíli's and an exchange was made. She slid her offering into his palm, and then very gently, almost reverently, took the offering from his.

Bilbo gasped. "Are they…?"

"Proposing?" Kíli murmured, a silly grin on his face revealing his happiness for his brother. "Yes!"

"Yes?" Bilbo looked back, seeing the two shyly sliding rings on their fingers. "Yes! She accepts him!" He set his bowl down as if ready to leap to his feet and run forward with his congratulations but Kíli's iron-firm grip stayed his arm.

"Leave them be," he said quietly. Fíli was still coming back to himself, and this thing with Arin was no small feat. He would give his brother peace and privacy and all the time he needed if it meant Fíli would be whole and happy again.

Bilbo looked at him, then back a Fíli, and then at his feet.

"You're right, of course," Bilbo murmured. He put his hand over Kíli's and the two of them smiled. "And if my opinion counts for anything, I approve."

"It counts," Kíli said, looking at once sad and happy. He withdrew his hand and thought of his uncle, then looked back at Bilbo, recalling Gandalf's words to them about Thorin's forgiveness of Bilbo in the end. "It counts very much, Bilbo. More than you know."

* * *

****A/N Our heartfelt thanks** for reading! Please don't be shy—leave us a quick review or PM if you like. We love to hear from you and it helps us stay focused on getting the chapters out.

**Summerandblue** is a writing team. You can find my stories under **Summerald** and Blue's under **BlueRiverSteel**. Check them out if you haven't already!

Mahal's Blessings,

**Summer (and Blue!)**


	16. Chapter 16 - Plans Gone Awry

**Chapter 16 - Plans Gone Awry **

There was a long ridge of low mountains at the Northern Border of the Shire, separating that peaceful land from the Wildlands just to its North. The braver Hobbits that lived north of Oatbarton could often see Ranger Encampments atop the divide, scattered beacons of protection to any creature that thought to attack the peaceful folk to the South. The Rangers provided economic support as well, buying many of the Hobbits' foodstuffs and textiles, while selling their own beautifully-crafted leatherwork and jewelry made of the green and red stones found in those low mountains.

But it was on the other side of these mountains that the bravest of hobbits now crouched behind a thick hedge, beside two young—but no longer quite so impetuous—dwarf princes.

Before them rose, on the banks of Lake Evendim, an ancient settlement that still stood despite hundreds of years of neglect—and even abuse at the hands of its current inhabitants. Said tenants were currently swarming out of the old stone buildings as dusk fell, chittering to one another in their odd language and readying for…_whatever_ it is they did to pass the time. They were the size of the mountain goblins that had captured Thorin's Company beneath the High Pass all those months ago, and gray skin stretched over skeletal frames; but that was where the similarities to goblins ended. The creatures were almost entirely hairless, but made up for it with copious smears of paint in bizarre patterns over every bit of exposed skin. The napes of their necks sported some sort of odd folded membrane which seemed to escape the body painting, and their voices were high and reedy.

Bilbo had never seen anything quite like them.

"What in the name of the merciful Valar?" he asked, mouth agape.

"Mewlips," Fíli hissed back, eyes narrowed. "Rarer than orcs or goblins, but no less barbaric. They feed on animals and wayward travelers, and are the sole reason this area has been abandoned for so long."

"They don't look like much more of a threat than orcs," Bilbo murmured back, a question in the statement.

Kíli snorted softly. "You haven't seen them fight yet. They have hoods that put one in mind of the poisonous serpents of the deserts, and their chief defense is a blinding poison they shoot from their mouths when they feel threatened."

Bilbo shuddered. "And our plan?"

"Your part is simple," Fíli answered softly. "The creatures can't manage around fire. Their eyesight is terrible, so the light confuses them; and the heat somehow diminishes their ability to aim their poison. Tauriel and I are going to place a fire line around the settlement, to prevent them escaping above ground." The Prince shifted, faced Bilbo directly, held his gaze. "The trouble is, for every one you find above ground, there are a hundred more under it."

"Tunnels," Bilbo muttered, beginning to see his part. Fíli nodded.

"Can you take care of it?"

The hobbit managed a grin, fiddled with the cold golden ring in his pocket. "Don't you worry. They'll never see me coming."

And they never did. All was still quiet from the forest where Bilbo knew their reinforcements awaited when he slipped the ring on his finger and snuck inside the ruins. The mewlips skittered about the abandoned settlement, feeding and fighting and yammering to one another, and Bilbo tried not to think about the red smeared over their faces, the brown—because what he'd thought at a distance was body paint, was very clearly old blood as he drew close, clotted and cracked in places—or the poison they could shoot if he gave himself away. The smell was horrific, all rot and dead things.

Trying to imagine where such creatures might burrow, he snuck between two low buildings at the edge of the settlement. Hugging close to one stone wall, his eyes widened; three paces away were no less than twenty of the creatures, crawling in and out of the large hole in the dirt.

_Well, there's one._

Having located his first target, Bilbo pressed himself flat against the wall—trying not to imagine why it felt slimy beneath his hands—and waited for his signal.

* * *

Kíli watched carefully from his post near the mouth of the forest that surrounded Annuminas, right hand held up to hold his assigned archers at bay. Twenty of the Rangers who had accompanied them on this mission waited behind him, longbows drawn with wicked-sharp stone tipped arrows, ready to create some mayhem the moment Fíli and Tauriel were clear.

Two small lights bobbing in the clearing just outside the settlement gates told him the location of the two he loved most in the world. They were relying on the mewlips' notorious near-blindness to keep themselves from getting killed—an aspect of the plan Kíli had protested vehemently—as they lay the fire line in the dry long grass.

Kíli suppressed a sigh of relief as the flames began to catch and move, creating a large circle around the settlement and—_Mahal willing_—locking the mewlips inside where the archers could shoot at them.

_Like fish in a barrel._

There was a small startled sound behind him, and Kíli turned abruptly—his archers with him—to see a slender figure crouching in the underbrush, eyes wide under a dark wool hood, glittering knife held in steady hands. The thing squeaked outright when twenty longbows all trained themselves on it, and though the blade dipped and trembled, it did not drop.

_Oh, for Mahal's sake…._

"Briar!" Kíli hissed, and the Rangers pulled back their bows instantly. He pulled the girl up by her cloak and the hood fell back, blonde curls tumbling out. Now that she was in no danger of being used as a pincushion, Briar's attitude returned full force, and she jerked out of Kíli's hands, working her face into a stubborn frown.

"We told you to stay in the camp with Arin—"

"I know what you said," the girl growled. "I can _fight_."

Kíli pinched the bridge of his nose. This was _not_ the time for this. Shouts echoed nearby, the signal to begin the attack. He fixed Briar with a glare no one dared disobey.

"I'll deal with you later. _Stay here_. Do _not_ move."

Turning back, Kíli made sure Fíli and Tauriel were clear—they appeared to be, he could see their torches crossing the tree line nearby—and gave the signal. The archers moved as one, forward into the field surrounding Annuminas, til they were within range.

A simple command from the Prince was all it took for the arrows to begin flying, adding pained squeals to the tumult of noise coming from the settlement. Kíli drew his own bow and began shooting as well, keeping up a steady cadence until a slender hand on his shoulder told him Tauriel had arrived.

"Briar followed us," he said without preamble, turning to face her. The firelight set Tauriel's red hair aflame and reflected in her eyes; with her blades drawn, she made such a fierce picture she took his breath away for a moment.

"I thought she might," the she-elf sighed. "Where is she? I will watch over her."

"Back at the archer's rally point," he answered, going to the tips of his toes to kiss Tauriel's cheek. "Be safe, _amrâmilê_."

"And you, my heart." Then she was gone.

Kíli turned back to the fray, drawing his bow taut again and again, letting fly little harbingers of death for every monster in the ancient forge. The creatures were beginning to swarm indoors now, and Kíli knew that would prompt the second half of their battle plan, so he called a halt, ordering his archers to draw swords.

Before anyone could comply, a scrawny hand curled around the leather of Kíli's boot and yanked hard. The dwarf prince let out a yelp as his back struck hard ground, and his eyes widened at the sight that met him there.

_Well. That was not in the plan._

* * *

Bilbo knew the moment the fire circle was drawn around the ruins of the old settlement. He could see the glow of the flames outside the low wall and the broken gate that led into the ancient town; the scent of fire made the creatures surrounding him jittery. Agitated, some began to dash about, barking strange words to one another and gathering makeshift weapons. To the hobbit's surprise, instead of running to the edge of town to confront whatever was causing trouble, the mewlips began swarming the tunnel mouth.

_That was not part of the plan._

With a shout, Bilbo jumped forward and threw one of the flash flames Fíli had put together for this mission, a grim smile lighting his face when it caught the brush around the tunnel mouth and began burning blue-hot. Quickly, before the mewlips could pinpoint his location, Bilbo snatched an armful of shattered furniture—wooden and dry—and threw it over the mouth of the tunnel. It caught eagerly, effectively blocking that tunnel from any of the creatures wanting to get inside.

_Move on, move on_, he chanted to himself. He left the mewlips screaming their frustration, and dashed into another narrow alley. This one had no tunnel, so he ran further.

Six more tunnel entrances he blocked this way, suffering only a few bumps and cuts for his efforts. But he had no way of knowing how many of the creatures had escaped through the tunnels. Panting, Bilbo ran outside to the front gate of the settlement, charging toward the agreed-upon point in the thin fire line. He stomped out the flames and smothered them with dirt in a several-foot swathe, then stood back and waited for the dwarf princes and Rangers to come charging in.

And that was when he knew something was terribly wrong.

There were mewlips _outside_ the line, in the field, engaging his friends and allies with a ferocity that surprised the hobbit. One man screamed, and Bilbo turned to see him swiping at black ichor that was smeared over his face, trying to get his eyes open so he could fight. The hissing mewlip before him pounced impossibly fast, clawing at his face viciously. Bilbo gasped and started forward, knowing he wouldn't get there in time to save the man, he was too far and Bilbo's legs were too damned short…

A goose-fletched arrow buried itself in the mewlip's back, and it fell with a screech, on top of its victim. The man did not move.

Bilbo did not stop, racing toward the fallen Ranger; but he suddenly, inexplicably, lost his balance, landing face-first in the dirt. It took a split second for the pain to register, but when it did….

_Oh, Mahal._

His ankle was on _fire_. Bilbo sat up slowly, wincing, and his eyes widened. Everything clicked, and he suddenly understood why the mewlips had rushed for the tunnels when they felt threatened, why the fire line had, in the long run, been useless.

One of the creatures was wriggling out of the hole his ankle had caught in, hissing as it cast about for an enemy to fight.

Bilbo had never been so thankful for his Ring.

* * *

Fíli roared his frustration as twin swords neatly disposed of a squawking mewlip on his right. The creatures had built tunnels under this field and were bursting up onto the field of battle from beneath their feet.

Their best laid plans had completely gone awry.

Luckily for him and Kíli, Rangers were many things, but cowardly was not one of them. They took the change of plans in stride, turning on the monsters in their midst with a ferocity that gave the dwarf prince chills. So much so, that in spite of the creatures' element of surprise, the battle began to turn in their favor rather quickly.

_Kíli, Kíli, Kíli_, was what ran through Fíli's mind now. He hadn't seen his brother since this all began, and he felt achy with desperation to know if he was well. Tauriel he had caught a glimpse of moments ago, closely accompanied by a slight Ranger wielding a long knife with deadly precision. She was all right.

The hobbit was (_Mahal, he hoped_) hiding out inside the settlement, sitting quietly and awaiting the end of the battle.

Thorin would journey back from the Halls of Mandos himself to kill Fíli if he let anything happen to Bilbo.

But Kíli. _Kíli_ was who he needed to see.

_There._

He caught sight of his brother, teeth flashing in a grin as he decapitated two of the hissing creatures at once with a victorious cry. Kíli whirled toward what looked like nothing, but when he stabbed his long sword into the ground with a growl, Fíli realized he had killed one in the process of coming above ground.

_Good lad, that's my Kíli._

Fíli dashed over to his brother, met his wild gaze with a smile of his own, positioned himself at Kíli's back.

"Together, _nadadith_."

Kíli grinned.

* * *

It took nearly three hours to drive off the remainder of the mewlips; but the Rangers more than lived up to their reputations as fierce fighters. Tauriel was the picture of grace and fluidity, Briar never more than an arms' length from her slight form; the lass held her own respectably, though she went to her knees from sheer exhaustion the moment the danger had truly passed. Bilbo surpassed even his hard-won reputation amongst the Line of Durin, Sting being the last thing nearly twenty of the creatures ever saw.

And _Fíli_, Kíli reflected as he watched his brother lead a party of five into the last building they needed to clear; Fíli was every bit the leader he'd been raised to be.

_He would've been a magnificent king._

The younger of Dis' sons felt a quiet sense of loss at the idea, one he allowed himself to indulge for only a moment. Fíli, Kíli thought, sometimes thought he was the only one to really understand what they left behind in Erebor, and then again in Ered Luin; but Kíli felt it too. He didn't often let Fíli see it; _one of them_ needed to be the optimist.

Still, he found himself grateful they had landed somewhere they could assist the forces of good while giving Fíli somewhere to be the leader Kíli knew he was. And he, Kíli, could be with his beloved and his brother, in addition to making himself useful via hunting and training up archers—which he frankly found preferable to any Prince's duties anyway.

It was, he reflected, a good situation all around.

"You are well, my Prince?" Tauriel asked, seeming to sense his melancholy. She had placed Briar in the capable hands of Bilbo and the Rangers' healers, and though her injuries were minimal—bruises, a sprained ankle, a head laceration that ought to be watched—she was suffering from a pretty severe, but expected, case of battle shock. It grieved Kíli's heart to see she had put herself in the midst of this at such a young age—thirteen year old dwarves were barely old enough to handle practice weapons, much less kill anything or watch anything be killed—but Tauriel pointed out she'd already seen her mother murdered by orcs. Youngsters were resilient and quick to rally; with the proper treatment and support, Briar would be fine.

"I am well," he responded to Tauriel's question, watching Fíli and his party exit the last building, the remainder of the Rangers cheering loudly at their victory. Fíli smiled, his face flushed in the firelight, pride and ferocity playing over his features.

Kíli felt pride of his own—_pride in Fíli_—bloom quick and hot in his chest, and a smile tugged at his lips. He was _better_ than well. His life had taken turns in the last year he'd have never anticipated; but he was here, with his beloved, and a human lass he'd developed a soft spot for when he wasn't looking, and a dwarf lass and her family that brought him laughter and joy, and one of their dearest friends and the bravest hobbit he'd ever known.

Most of all, he was with his brother.

They were going to _thrive_ here, he could sense it.

"I am well," he said again, drawing Tauriel close to his side.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you all** for reading! Please remember to leave us a quick review or PM with your opinions and thoughts. We _love_ to hear from you! We're beginning to wind down this fic, nearing the end; but hang with us, there's more yet to come!

**Summerandblue** is a writing team. You can find my stories under **BlueRiverSteel** and Summer's under **Summerald **on this site. Check them out if you haven't already!

**Blue (and Summer!)**


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17 – An Unexpected Visitor (Epilogue, Part One)**

_Autumn 2949, five years later...Bag End_

Bilbo looked up at the sound of his doorbell. He'd just finished washing the last of his supper dishes and placed the large stoneware plate on the sideboard. He'd had a very satisfying baked autumn squash with butter and brown sugar and he was rather pleasantly full and sated. If it was the Quick Post with a late letter, it could just be left in the box.

The doorbell rang again.

"Yes, yes!" he called out to no one, annoyed at the impatience of some folk. He turned from the sink and stomped toward the front door. He dried his hands on the dish towel as he went, flipping it emphatically over one shoulder. It was much too late in the evening for deliveries, and if it was old Rollo Hogpen again, complaining about the geese...

His clean hand gripped the brass knob at the center of his door and he twisted, pulling the round, green door open and stepping back with a frown.

And then his mouth gaped open: a completely unexpected visitor.

"Balin," a white-haired dwarf announced himself, arms held wide as he made a cursory bow. "At your service."

Bilbo blinked, unable to form a word. But he did echo Balin's open arms and made a soft "Oh!" as he stepped forward and found himself embraced by his friend, none other than advisor and cousin to Thorin Oakenshield himself.

"Ah, Bilbo lad. You haven't changed a bit!" Balin's arms came tight around him and a hand thumped his shoulder.

"My dear Balin! What a joyous surprise…" Bilbo pulled back, smiled in happy disbelief and then remembered his duties as host. "Come in, come in!" He backed up and made way for the elder dwarf to come inside. He took Balin's red cloak, gave it a quick shake and hung it on a sturdy peg. "In here, you know the way," he added.

Balin nodded and stepped in, eyes roving around the foyer, noting the hallway to the kitchen, the one to the pantry, and the one to the sitting room.

"Gandalf will be just behind me," Balin said. "Once he settles arrangements for the ponies."

"Gandalf too? Here, the leather chair for you, I think. Where are my manners...tea? Or no—ale? I've a late harvest red in the barrel…"

"Thank you. An ale would be a blessing, lad."

Bilbo rushed to fetch tankards and came back with two, full to the brim, along with a pouch of fine Longbottom Leaf. He'd just handed a tankard to the delighted Balin when the bell rang again.

"That'll be the wizard," Balin smiled and nodded, eyes twinkling.

Bilbo ran to the door this time and his old friend was indeed there.

"Gandalf! You never can give a lad warning, can you," he said as an observation rather than a question.

"And a pleasant good evening to you, too, my good Hobbit." Gandalf leaned down to peer inside, not quite admonishing him. Bilbo rushed forward, hugging him around the middle and Gandalf laughed in happiness, patting the hobbit on the back.

Bilbo stood back with an amazed shake of his head and took the wizard's hat as Gandalf ducked through the round door and set his staff next to Balin's cloak.

"Have a seat!" he waved Gandalf toward the sitting room and rushed off to bring tea and seed cakes along with a tray of sliced ham (dwarves being particularly fond of pork) and he stoked the fire before taking a deep breath and facing his guests.

"Welcome," he said. "It is so..." He struggled to find the right word, suddenly overcome with thoughts of Thorin. "Good," he managed, running a hand through his curly hair. "To...to see you both here again."

Balin nodded and set his tankard down. "It's no lie that being back here reminds us all of him. Of Thorin."

Silence. Gandalf was somber. Bilbo could only nod. "You must miss him," Bilbo cast his eyes down.

"Yes, most assuredly." Balin patted his beard with a napkin (always more well-mannered than his brethren) and then leaned back in the big wing chair. "And truth be told, it is partly because of Thorin that I am here."

"Because of...?" Bilbo looked at Gandalf—the wizard's expression remained serious.

"I have only recently returned to Erebor," Balin began, and he told a quick story of spending several years abroad in Gondor on Dain's behalf. And while he very carefully avoided any opinions about Dain or his rule in Erebor, Bilbo heard the subtext: none of Thorin's original company still resided there save Dwalin, and Balin's own feelings on the matter were plain—he would seek his fortunes elsewhere from here on. "I've a mind to return to Ered Luin for a stretch, but I've heard new rumors related to the line of Durin that I find..." he searched for the right word. "Puzzling." He tilted his chin down and looked rather pointedly at Bilbo.

Bilbo felt his expression go still. He'd sworn a very serious oath on that account. _And to keep our secret safe lest the vengeance of all that is evil seek to prevent us from achieving our goal._

"It is time, I think," Gandalf said to Bilbo as he lit his pipe. "To bring Master Balin into Our Secret."

"But…" Bilbo frowned. "I'm sorry, Gandalf. I swore an oath..."

Gandalf nodded, brows drawn.

"An oath to whom?" Balin asked.

Bilbo kept his face still. "To the Forgemaster."

"The _Forgemaster_?" Balin's bushy eyebrows went up.

"Yes. To the Forgemaster himself." Bilbo shook his head. "And if this is some kind of test," he glared at Gandalf. "I assure you, I gave my word and I will hold my tongue."

"It is not a test, Bilbo Baggins. It is a necessity, and if you won't tell our dear Lord Balin, then I will." Gandalf glowered, puffing on his pipe so that it glowed red and illuminated his face. "Though my information is five years out of date, and you, my dear friend," Gandalf's expression softened. "Can give us far more current news."

Bilbo sat on the footstool next to the fire. "You're certain? You wish me to…?"

Gandalf's only answer was to sit up, take his pipe from his mouth, and nod once.

Balin simply looked expectant.

"Yes. All right," Bilbo said, wiping a hand across his face. "Only because you are kin," he said to Balin. "But it's a complicated story." He glared at Gandalf, wondering why the wizard wasn't talking and worrying that this was still some kind of check on his ability to keep secrets.

"First," Balin said. "Tell me: who is this Forgemaster? I've heard several tales of this upstart and I've seen a sample or two of his work. I've not seen its like since…"

Bilbo held up a hand to prevent Balin from saying anything more. "Since Thorin Oakenshield himself, I'll wager." Bilbo nodded. "The Forgemaster is, of course, a dwarf—a swordsmith who has restored the Forge of Annuminas and is quite busy arming the Dunedain and bringing up a new class of apprentices. I have myself traveled north to visit several times since he's set up shop."

"What dwarf?" Balin's face reddened. "Who would have such a right? Some back-country rogue in league with…?"

Bilbo held up his hand again. "Let me tell it my own way." Balin clenched his jaw and glowered, and Bilbo started anew. "It was a summer day not unlike this one five years ago," he began. "When I opened my door to find three travelers there—two of whom I thought I'd never see again."

Balin's expression clouded but his eyes were bright. Bilbo could see he was losing patience.

"It was the lads, Balin. Thorin's lads...Fíli and Kíli. And Tauriel—Tauriel was with them."

Balin sat stone still, his eyes going from Bilbo to Gandalf and back.

"How can this be," he whispered hoarsely. "What manner of joke…?"

"Not a joke at all, my good Balin," Gandalf said. "But a true story. You will recall that we could not find them after the Battle…"

Balin stood, ran a hand through his snow white hair, and then looked away. "But it was reported," he said in disbelief. "We were told they'd been…" He shook his head and looked back at Bilbo as if he could not bring himself to think on it.

"Dismembered? Hacked to pieces?" Bilbo didn't shy from saying it, his nose wrinkled with disgust. "Lies. That was nothing more than Thranduil's ruse to keep you away when he took them." Bilbo shook his head as Balin's expression went from shock to hope, and then anger.

"Why," Balin growled, taking a step forward. "Would those sneaky lying elves," he glowered, "do such a entirely unforgivable thing?"

Bilbo pressed his lips together and he shook his head. He'd been as shocked himself the first time he'd heard of Thranduil's deed.

"For Tauriel's part," Gandalf's voice was soothing. "I believe she simply wanted to save Kíli. Elves can't really understand death, you see. Since she'd healed him once, she couldn't accept the idea that such a young life was truly over."

Balin glared.

"They all three outsmarted the Elven King in the end," Bilbo turned the conversation away from Thranduil before Balin could really work up a rage. "And I can tell you that the lads are indeed alive and today they are quite well...though it took months of healing. It is Fíli, Balin, who is called the Forgemaster. He has opened the great forge of Anuminas and has begun the work of arming the men of Arnor."

Balin's eyebrows went up.

"Durin's Heir in hiding," Gandalf murmured. "Turning his life's work to the most critical challenge of our time."

"...and Kíli?"

"His weaponsmaster," Bilbo said. "No one gets in and out of Annuminas without The Archer knowing. He oversees the training ground and few Dunedain can best him—axe or sword." Bilbo smiled, recalling the last time he'd seen Kíli out-fight grown men in the practice ring. "Thanks to him, the defenses of the old city are quite formidable."

Balin blinked at him, then slowly sat again as if weakened by the surprise. "How?" he whispered. "How could they have survived…?"

Bilbo recounted then, the story as Fíli, Kíli, and Tauriel had told him at this very fireside, not five years earlier. As he told it, Balin's expression went from sadness to shock, to anger, and then wonder as Bilbo detailed their journey from hostages in Mirkwood to third-class citizens in Erebor, and then to sojourners making their way west again on a mission to return their mother's birthright to her...one last gift from Thorin himself.

Balin leaned forward, eyes alight with avid interest when Bilbo told of Fíli standing at the edge of the Mirrormere like Durin of old. "What did he see?" Balin asked. "Did he tell you what he saw?" the elder dwarf demanded.

Bilbo stopped a moment to recall Fíli's words. "He said he saw nothing but the stars above. That he washed the ruby—the Heart of Durin—in its waters and promised to deliver it to his mother."

Gandalf spoke up then. "And he prayed," the wizard said. Then he uttered in Khuzdul: _Mahal, lead me on the right path. Show me where my duty lies. What fight do I now fight? For what cause do I spend my life?_ "It's from the song, _Nenithiel's Wish_. One of the few elven songs to honor Aüle's people."

The room was silent a moment with only the sound of the crackling fire.

"Aüle has given him his life's work, then," Balin breathed, his voice deep and soft. "The Great Forge of Annuminas…"

"Yes," Gandalf said. "The Great Forge and a blooded Son of Durin to fire it."

"And the elf?" Balin asked pointedly. He clearly hadn't forgotten Tauriel.

Bilbo shrugged. "She comes and goes. She has severed her ties with Mirkwood…though she has become known to our own elves here in this part of the world. There are a lot of them who pass through Woodhall, you know…not warlike in the slightest."

"Thranduil has banished her," Gandalf said gravely. "She can not return to him. She ranges between Rivendell and the Havens, providing the lads and the Dunedain with news of the countryside." He leaned forward. "Evil forces are crawling from the shadows, my dear Balin. Times are uncertain. The White Council, I must tell you," he looked at the fire. "Is quite thoroughly concerned."

"If they have opened the forge in secret," Balin said finally. "They will have an army guarding it. Yet I must see them alive and well for myself, Bilbo."

Bilbo nodded, understanding his old friend's need. He reached out and clasped the elder dwarf's hand. "I will take you there, if you can go. There is a secret path and I well know the way."

Balin smiled and nodded, his old eyes full of unshed tears.

Bilbo patted his pockets and came up with his handkerchief, handing it over.

The old dwarf accepted it.

"Take heart," Bilbo murmured as Balin wiped his eyes. "They are strong and I daresay quite happy. I'll see you to a warm, cozy bed here in the guest chambers, and tomorrow morning we'll be off."

Balin nodded and then stood when Bilbo stood.

"Such news…" he said, wiping his eyes once again. Then he reached for Bilbo and pulled him into a dwarfy hug, reminding Bilbo once again of Thorin. But Bilbo's heart was eased: Thorin's lads lived, and now Thorin's most trusted kin knew it.

But his heart still grieved for Thorin himself. "Come along, then," he said to Balin. "A quiet night and a peaceful rest is in order. We've two full days of travel ahead and a reunion to make."

* * *

_Coming soon: Epilogue Part Two!_

_Our combined apologies for the long weeks between chapters (because...reasons :/ ) One more chapter in the hopper and then it's a wrap! _

_Couple thanks to Nenithiel and Jessie152 for a bit of extra nudging and assistance (thanks much!) And hand on heart to writing buddy BlueRiverSteel.  
_

_And thanks SO very much to YOU for following this story...as always, drop us a PM or a review and let us know what you think! Mahal's Blessings,_

_-Summer (and Blue!)_


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